Line of Fire (17 page)

A knock on her door sent the cat flying under the sofa, and startled her, too. A glance at the clock had her concerned. Eleven at night? Only bad visits happened this late and she immediately thought of her brother.

She lived in fear of an officer coming to tell her Shane had been shot. Or worse.

She plunked down her wine, sloshing some, and hurried to the door. Cautious, she looked out the peephole—and gasped, her heart stuttering. There, in the porch light, stood Tommy.

Without hesitating, she unlocked the door and yanked it open. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“Why? So you can stomp on me some more? You didn’t get to kick me on my way out the last time, so you’re here to do it in person?”

Wow. She supposed she had a little anger stored along with the hurt. His expression gave her pause, though. His pale blue eyes were bruised. Haunted. He didn’t look good, and his scars had nothing to do with it.

“Please, Shea,” he said hoarsely. “Hear me out.”

She stepped aside and let him in, trailed him into the living room. “You’ve lost weight. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

He faced her squarely, wrapped hand hanging at his side. “I am now. I had some stuff to work through in my head.”

“And have you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, afraid to hope.

“I have. First of all, I want to apologize for not listening to you in the hospital. You shared a very painful, traumatic experience with me, placed your trust in me, and I didn’t listen. You were trying to tell me it’s okay to grieve for our losses, but that we get through them. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself, my losses, and I pushed you away.”

Do not cry. “You did. You made me fall in love with you and then you tossed that love back in my face. When the going got tough, you checked out.”

At that moment, the ocean between them had never been so vast and empty. She ached with the need to touch him.

“You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

“What do you want from me?” She wasn’t about to make this easy. Say it.

“I thought my injuries, losing my looks and the use of my hand, made me not whole anymore, not a man. Not good enough for you. What I didn’t know . . .” His voice broke and his breath hitched. “What I didn’t understand was that I was whole until I lost you.”

Her hand went over her mouth and tears streamed down her cheeks.

He took a step toward her. “Baby, forgive me. Please.”

With a sob, she launched herself into his arms and was crushed against his chest. His good hand buried itself in her hair and kisses rained on top of her head. Then he pulled back slightly and claimed her mouth like a starving man.

They clung to each other, tasted and explored. Reaffirmed their love, their connection. Couldn’t get enough.

“I need skin,” she whispered into his mouth.

“God, yes. Missed you so much.”

He chuckled as she tore off his clothes, and it hit her how she’d missed his laugh. His smile. His presence in her soul. She yanked off his shorts and underwear and peeled off his shirt. “Sit on the sofa,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am! Damn, I could get used to this side of you.” His eyes glittered as he sat, watched her strip.

“Wait for it. Gets better.”

Naked, she pushed his knees apart and crouched on the floor between them. She loved this, him spread for her, waiting to find out what she’d do next.

His cock filled rapidly, happy to get into the action. It curved toward his stomach, flushed, rising from golden curls. Heavy balls nestled underneath, too tempting to resist.

Lifting them with gentle fingers, she sucked each one, enjoying his earthy male flavor. She wanted to drive him out of his mind, make him beg for her.

“Oh, baby, please.” His head fell against the back of the sofa.

That was a good start. She licked and teased each orb, manipulating them, grazing them with her teeth. This drove him mindless, his hips bucking, and so she moved on, running her tongue up the underside of his cock. His groan of pleasure was like music.

Next, she feasted on the plump cap, licking the little drops of precum away. Salty and sweet. Hers. She took him into her mouth, sucking him with increasing pressure, making sure he knew who was in charge this time around.

“Ahh, shit! You’re gonna make me go!”

She released him with a pop. “No, you don’t.”

“I can’t hold out much longer.”

Straddling his lap, she positioned the head of his cock at her opening. “You’ll wait until you’re inside me. I want it hard and fast, understand?”

His pupils were blown, and he was almost incoherent with excitement. “C-condom. In my bag on your porch.”

Intent, she gazed directly into his eyes. “Not this time.” “Jesus,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “Are you sure?”

“Very. Do me, gorgeous. I want to feel it tomorrow.”

She sank onto him and they groaned together, lost in the exquisite feeling of being joined again. Only skin, sliding, sparking the inferno out of control.

As he began to thrust into her, she wound her arms around his neck, hanging on for the ride. He gripped her hip with his left hand, fingers digging into her flesh. They slapped together in noisy rhythm, their coupling feverish in their need to reconnect.

“Shea, baby! Yes, oh . . .”

Her orgasm ripped through her body, taking her by surprise. She cried out, felt herself convulsing around him as he drove into her. One more thrust and he held deep, pumping hot cum, filling her to overflowing. He was so beautiful, expression lost in pleasure, looking at her with such love.

“You turned me inside out,” he rasped. “God, that was amazing.”

“Had to show you what you’ve been missing.”

Immediately, he was contrite. “I’m so sorry. Believe me, it’ll never happen again.”

“It better not.” Gingerly, she ran a finger along the edge of his scar, following the red line from his temple down his cheek to his throat. What might’ve happened, had the metal sliced a fraction of an inch deeper and hit his jugular, made her shiver.

He misread her reaction and looked away. “It’s ugly. I can’t improve it without plastic surgery and even then—”

“You misunderstand. I’m touching it because it’s a part of you, and I love all of you.” To emphasize her point, she leaned in, kissed the scar at his temple, his cheek. “I shuddered because I realize it’s a miracle you weren’t killed.”

“It really doesn’t bother you?”

The hope in his voice shredded her. “No. I hate that it bothers you, but in time it will fade.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“You might not. Just don’t let it define your life.”

“Kind of hard not to, when it’s almost a perfect dividing line between my old life and my new.”

He had a point. “True. Perhaps you’ll come to see it as one of those hard-won blessings in disguise—you went through a bad period, and something better was waiting on the other side.”

He gave her a genuine smile. “You sound like Dad.”

“Smart man.” As bad as she hated to move, she climbed off his lap. “Want to get cleaned up? Race you to the shower.”

“On your mark . . .”

They enjoyed a hot shower, giggling like kids while getting each other soapy and fooling around. A fondle here, a playful pinch there. The water ran cold and they finally got out and dried off, happy, if a little tired.

Tommy, towel wrapped around his hips, quickly retrieved his gym bag from her front porch and returned, donning a pair of clean boxer briefs. Shea put on a pair of panties and a big T-shirt, and they snuggled in her bed, her head on his chest.

Wouldn’t you know, the interlude was too peaceful to last.

“Baby, I need to talk to you about something,” he said, squeezing her.

“Hmm?”

“I saw you at the diner tonight.”

“I saw you, too. Thought you might come over, but I guess I can understand why you didn’t.” Looking back, she couldn’t imagine how seeing her with Forrest must’ve hurt him. But he had pushed her away, so the next move was his to make.

“I should have. That’s not what I need to talk about, though.” He paused. “The guy in the red ball cap who stopped at your table. Did Prescott introduce him?”

“Briefly. Said his name was Will Hensley and he worked for the city as a building inspector.”

Tommy tensed underneath her. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“What can’t?”

“I’d seen him before. The first time was right before I passed out, after the scaffold collapse. The second was after the gas explosion at the vacant residence. Both times he was among the gawkers across the street.”

Shea digested this. “The coincidence is strange, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Since he works for the city, especially in inspection, he’s around town.”

“Normally I’d agree. You didn’t see the vibes going on between those two when you weren’t looking, though. Prescott was royally pissed to see him there. Even made a gesture at him to get lost. It got me thinking, and I did something I shouldn’t have, even though I’m glad I did.”

Rising, she propped herself on his chest and looked him in the eye. “Which was?”

“I followed Forrest tonight to see what he was up to. Everywhere he went.”

When the full meaning hit, she gaped at him. “You spied on me? Here?”

“Not on you,” he assured her quickly. “On Forrest. I left here when he did and tailed him.”

“I—I’m not sure what to think about that, Tommy. Why are you ‘glad’ you followed him?”

“Because Prescott ended up at the city hall in a meeting with Will Hensley, in Prescott’s office, at ten in the evening with nobody there but the guard. Your would-be boyfriend was raking Hensley over the coals for speaking to him at the diner in front of you.”

“Wait a minute. You sneaked inside the city offices? After dark?”

“They left the side door unlocked, so yeah, I took advantage,” he said, starting to appear upset. “Shea, those two are buried up to their necks in all sorts of bad shit. Blackmail, fraud, murder—”

“Whoa. Slow down and explain. Those are some hefty words you’re slinging around. I have a hard time picturing Forrest involved in anything illegal.”

He aimed a scowl at her. “Plenty of bright and shiny things are poisonous under the surface, like nightshade berries. I know what I heard.”

“Sorry,” she said, stroking his chest. “Go ahead.”

“Like I said, Prescott wasn’t thrilled about seeing Will at the diner. He mentioned that some third party—a guy—wanted Will dead, but apparently Prescott convinced him not to follow through.”

“Dead? My Lord . . .”

“Yep. They were talking about money and payouts and—look, the fire at the warehouse was arson, according to the investigator I spoke with. Prescott and Hensley talked about the warehouse job and how Hensley wouldn’t do what Prescott wanted, but some other man did and now he’s dead underneath all the rubble. And, Shea . . . I think I’m the job they were talking about.”

“What! How?” She stared at him, trying to process everything he was saying.

“I was hit on the head. Twice. And that was before the roof fell. I never saw what hit me.”

“Did you hear any movement behind you?”

“No, nothing. But with the noise, how could I? Anyway, Prescott made it clear he’s blackmailing Hensley to arrange these ‘accidents,’ and in return, nobody finds out Hensley is HIV positive, and he has the money to buy his medicine.”

Shea was stunned. Forrest? Involved in criminal activity? She couldn’t believe it.

“Oh, my God. So why do you think you were the target in the warehouse? What would they have to gain?”

“Not they; Forrest. He gets me out of the way so I’m no longer competition to be with you.”

“Like I’m such a catch that he’d kill for me?—Wait. Oh, no way.” Her eyes widened as she recalled her earlier visit with Forrest. “Tonight he asked about buying the property Shane and I inherited from our parents. You don’t think . . .”

Tommy was silent for a moment. “It’s possible he covets your real estate as a way to pad the income from his other dealings. If he can snag you as well, it’s a bonus.”

Freaking unreal. “His other dealings being, what?”

“An insurance scam. They buy low, destroy their holdings, and collect the cash.”

“Okay. Except, wouldn’t the insurance company catch on?”

Tommy shook his head. “Not if they insured with various companies, under different corporate names. Let me ask you something again—how did you and Prescott meet?”

“At a charity event sponsored by the Sugarland Police Department a few months ago. Shane said Forrest insisted on an introduction. I had no idea who he was.” Oh, that sounded bad, in light of what Tommy had overheard. And in looking back over her relationship with Forrest, too.

“That’s right.” After a long moment, Tommy drew the conclusion for them both. “If he courted you and won, he wouldn’t have to purchase the property. He’d also inherit if anything happened to you and Shane.”

Her stomach lurched. “I can’t fathom he’d go that far.”

“Baby, I heard Prescott say outright that if it came down to another person and himself, he’d choose himself. He does not have a problem with killing.”

She thought she might be sick.

Tommy continued. “We need a plan. Are you off tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to work, but I haven’t called in sick in ages. I could do that.”

“Good. Let’s talk to your brother first thing and tell him all of this. See whether he has any ideas about what to do next.”

“And the rest of the day?”

He rolled her underneath him and ground his revived erection between her thighs.

“Answer your question?”

17

Tommy’s cell phone rang and he stretched, letting out a groan. Whoever was calling was darned persistent. Second call in ten minutes.

“Mmm, you going to answer that?”

“Let’s see—warm woman or phone? Let me think.”

She giggled. “Could be important.”

“Better be.” He answered, unprepared for the voice on the other end.

“Son, where have you been?”

“Hey, Mom. I—”

“Your dad and I are so worried about you! You don’t call, you hardly answer your phone.” Boy, she was upset, not that he could blame her. “It’s not right for you to keep yourself holed up in that apartment all alone. I’m coming over to get you, and you’re going to come home and let me make you some breakfast.”

“Mom—” He glanced at Shea to see her stifling a laugh, and stuck his tongue out at her.

“You’re going to get out of there and stop moping. I mean it, Thomas Wayne! I’ll be there in ten.”

“Wait, Mom! I’m not at home.”

“Oh.” A pause, then, “Well, where are you?”

His face heated. “Mom, there are some things a guy does not want to discuss with his mother.”

“What! You mean you’re already running around with another woman right after you broke up with that beautiful girl?” She sounded indignant. “How could you?”

Lord have mercy. “I’m not running around on Shea. We got back together.” He held the phone away from his ear slightly, to soften the piercing squeal of joy.

“Oh! Honey, that’s wonderful! Bring her over, son. We’ll have brunch and mimosas.”

“When? Now?”

“Of course now. What else do you have to do?”

“Well, we . . .” Have to see Shea’s brother because the city manager is a fraudulent asshole and wants me dead.

Um, maybe not.

“Well?”

He held the phone to his chest and whispered to Shea, “Brunch at my parents’ house?”

She kissed his cheek. “Sure, sounds nice.”

“Okay, we’ll be there. What time?”

“Around ten thirty. Bring your appetite!”

“You bet. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”

He hung up to see Shea smiling at him. “You don’t mind? Once she found out I wasn’t cheating on you and that we were back together, there was no stopping her.”

“I think it’s great. I’d love to get to know your folks better.”

“Well, you’re going to get your chance. She wants us there around ten thirty, so that gives us about an hour to get ready.”

“No nooky?”

“Who said that? Let’s don’t be hasty.”

“Ooh, shower nooky?”

She looked so cute sitting there naked with her curly brown hair wild around her face, talking about nooky, he had to laugh.

“I think that can be arranged.”

In the bathroom, Tommy turned on the water and they let it heat up, while raising the temperature in other places. He pulled her back to his front and nibbled her neck, reached around her to tweak her nipples.

“Damn, this is hard to do one-handed,” he complained.

“I don’t know, you’re doing a pretty good job.” She wiggled her bottom against his groin.

His semihard erection came fully awake, ready to play. “Why don’t we continue this under the nice, hot spray?”

After helping him unwrap his hand, she led him into the stall and closed the door behind him. He leered at her, just over a hundred pounds of wet, willing woman. All his.

“I want to soap you up.” He grabbed a bottle of shower gel from a hanging rack and thumbed it open.

Since it was easiest, he dribbled the fruity gel all over her back and his front, making certain he could get them nice and slick. She didn’t offer to help, which he appreciated. It might be stupid to be concerned about such a small task, but he wanted to feel like he could do things without assistance.

He could damned sure make love to his lady.

Replacing the gel on the rack, he began to soap her back, admiring the glide of the bubbles over her skin. She had such a pretty back, slender, dipping down to flared hips. She had two little dimples over her butt, and he grinned.

His soapy hand wandered over her bottom, slid into the cleft between her ass cheeks. He liked the way she spread her legs, poked her rear out for him with a soft moan. A lot.

Reaching farther, he soaped her folds, making sure to graze the tiny clit. Rubbed until she silently begged, body open for him.

“Brace your hands on the tile, baby.”

She did, and he slid into her from behind. Sank his cock into her sweet channel, slow and easy, all the way to the hilt.

“Love you,” he whispered. “Never giving you up again.”

“I love you, too.”

He fucked her with easy strokes, setting off the sparks one by one. Kindling them to flames that consumed them both, and before he knew it, he was thrusting faster, deeper.

“Oh, yes,” he hissed. “That’s it.”

Her little cries tipped him over the edge, and her convulsing around him was like nothing he’d ever felt with any woman. Heaven, pure and simple.

With a hoarse shout, he erupted, spasming as she milked every drop from his body. They remained connected for a moment, coming down, totally blissed out.

“Damn, girl, what you do to me.”

“I can say the same to you, stud.”

The endearment made him blush and pleased him at the same time. What guy didn’t like to be his woman’s stud?

With regret, he pulled out and they finished their shower, hurrying since they’d spent longer in there than they’d intended. Even though it was so darned much fun.

They dressed casually in shorts and T-shirts, and he thought it was funny that Shea was so concerned with her appearance.

“Relax. Mom and Dad already adore you. I think they just want to see me happy, that’s all.”

“I can certainly understand that. I’m assuming you’re invoking the Dome of Silence rule on the whole Prescott situation?”

“God, yes. I don’t even want to think about how badly they’d wig out if they knew.”

“You got it. But you’ll have to tell them sooner or later.”

“I know. I’m hoping for later. Much later.”

Shea had to admit she was a bit nervous about officially meeting Tommy’s parents. The hospital didn’t really count as an ideal place to socialize, and they’d all been sick with worry over Tommy at the time.

She was feeling just the teensiest bit guilty, too, about what they’d done by his parents’ pool. Best not to dwell on that too much.

Tommy led the way to the front door and rang the bell, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’re safe. They’ve never buried a single one of my dates in the basement. Yet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bethany Skyler flung open the door, and Shea was immediately crushed in the woman’s enthusiastic embrace.

“Shea, it’s so good to see you again, and under much better circumstances!”

“You, too, Mrs. Skyler.”

“Beth, please.” The pretty older woman turned her happiness on her son and gave him just as strong a hug. “And you! Sneaky devil, not even telling us you two had reconciled.”

“I haven’t had a chance, because it just happened.”

“Well, in that case I’ll give you a break. Come in. Your father is in the kitchen pretending to help when he’s really just snacking on everything.”

Tommy laughed. “Sounds like Dad.”

They found Don in the kitchen, popping a strawberry into his mouth, and Beth fussed at him to stay out of the food until it was served.

“What?” he said innocently around a mouthful of berry. “Someone’s got to make sure it tastes okay. Hi, Shea, good to see you. Son.”

They greeted him with hugs and then Beth waved them to the breakfast nook. “I was going to set up outside, but it’s already too blasted hot. I hope inside is okay.”

Shea exchanged a look with Tommy and saw him struggling not to laugh. The last thing either of them wanted to do was brunch with his parents right on top of the scene of the crime, for God’s sake. It was kind of funny, and she almost giggled, too.

They took a seat at the table situated in an alcove, surrounded by plants. “Your home is lovely, Beth. Thank you for having me here.”

“Oh, thank you. Our house has needed a beautiful young lady to brighten it up for some time. Would you like a mimosa, dear? It’s champagne and orange juice, perfect for brunch.”

“I’d love one.”

Beth fetched the drinks while Don brought in a fruit tray. After setting it on the table, he went back into the kitchen.

“I hope they didn’t go to all this trouble for me,” she told Tommy. “This is so nice.”

“No, my mom enjoys this kind of stuff. She used to entertain more, but hasn’t done it in a while.”

She figured she knew why, but didn’t bring it up. It was hard not knowing how careful she needed to be around his parents regarding the subject of his older brother.

Beth brought the drinks and his dad made two trips, bringing plates and silverware, and a quiche that looked and smelled wonderful.

“Might as well dig in,” Don said jovially. “She made enough to feed us and the neighbors.”

“I invited them to join us, but they couldn’t come. Didn’t say why, either.” Beth shrugged. “More for us.”

Tommy tried to hide his laugh with a cough. “Yeah, their loss.”

“Are you keeping up with your physical therapy, son?” Don sounded concerned, as though he worried Tommy might blow it off.

“I wasn’t, but I am now.”

His dad nodded. “Good. How often?”

“I’ll start going three times a week and they’ll have me doing exercises, for all the good it’ll do.”

This prompted a frown from Don. “Why do you say that?”

“Are you kidding? I can’t even perform the simplest task with the damned thing. Might as well have lost it.”

“Tommy!” his mother scolded, taken aback. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just that it feels really useless right now. Why drag around a part of me that won’t work the way it’s supposed to?”

“At least you have your hand. So many others have nothing.”

Tommy gave his mother a sharp look. “I know, Mom. You don’t have to tell me that.”

Tension hung in the air, what Beth didn’t say coming through so loud even Shea could hear it—your brother is gone and you’re still alive, so be grateful. Thankfully, his mother dropped the subject. Tommy wasn’t yet in the place where he wanted to hear how grateful he should be, and Shea understood that.

Shea sipped her mimosa and took a bite of her quiche, which was filled with ham and cheese, just the way she liked it. “This is fantastic. Do you cook often?”

“Oh, I used to do a lot of catering, but not so much anymore.”

“If you enjoy doing that, you should get back into it,” she said. “No sense wasting such a God-given talent.”

Don laid his hand on top of Beth’s. “That’s what I’ve been telling her, too. We’ve all been stuck in a holding pattern for the past three years.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued, and Shea scrambled to fill it. “What do you do, Don?”

“I’m a PI—private investigator. I used to be a cop in Nashville, but the stress was too much for my family. Gave it up to take pictures of old goats cheating on their wives.”

Beth and Tommy chuckled and Shea smiled. Nobody would ever come close to calling Don an old goat, nor could she see him cheating on Beth. A very handsome man still in his forties, Don was clearly devoted to his wife and remaining son.

“Sounds interesting. Does it ever get dangerous?”

Don shook his head. “I’ve been fortunate. The worst I’ve ever had happen is I got caught by a cheating husband when I was snapping pictures of him checking into a hotel with his sweet young thing.”

“Oh, no.”

“He threatened to sue me, but changed his tune when I pointed out that paying two sets of legal fees—suing me and paying out the nose for his divorce—wasn’t a good plan when he was sure to lose both cases, therefore costing him more money.”

“You must enjoy being your own boss,” she put in.

“Definitely. I set my own hours, and there’s nobody riding my butt if I don’t feel like opening up shop tomorrow.”

“Except the bill collectors, dear,” Beth said fondly.

“Well, there’s that.”

They finished eating, making small talk. Shea noted that Tommy seemed a bit subdued, even though he interjected in all the right places. She knew he still had some trouble managing his fork with his left hand, but she didn’t think that was the problem. Or not the whole problem, anyway.

Once they’d finished, Shea offered to help clean up, but Beth ordered her to sit while she and Don took care of the dishes.

“There’s not much. Just enjoy yourselves. Sit out in the living room if you’d like.”

“Come on,” Tommy said, reaching for her hand.

Taking his mother’s suggestion, he led her into the living room, but didn’t sit. Instead, he wandered slowly over to the fireplace mantel, where several framed snapshots rested. He stared at one of them, a photo of Tommy and another young man wrestling in the grass, a football lying nearby. The pair wore huge smiles for the camera, and the love radiating from the picture took her breath away.

Tommy’s finger traced the frame. “She doesn’t see me,” he said sadly.

“Your mom?”

“Yeah. It’s like . . . because Donny’s gone, I ought to be thankful for every breath I take, every opportunity that comes my way. And I am, but not because he’s gone, because he lived. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I think so.” It made her heart hurt for him.

“She rubs him in my face at every turn. I should be this because Donny can’t, I should feel this way because Donny can’t. Not in so many words, but it’s there, all the time. She doesn’t see me.” His voice was rife with pain.

“Oh, honey.” She laid her hand on his arm, trying to think of what to say, but was spared from replying.

“I had no idea you felt that way.”

Beth stood just inside the room, face white. She was wringing her hands, eyes filled with tears, appearing torn between fleeing the room and running to her son.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy turned to face his mother. “I can’t help the way I feel, but I do. I’m not Donny, and I could never hope to be. I’m my own person, so stop measuring me against the man he was.”