From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two (12 page)

Something grazed his hand. When he turned Joselyn barreled into his chest. “Oomph.” Stepping back, she searched his eyes. “Sorry. I keep bumping into you.” Her lips quirked in a slight, teasing smile.

“Need something?” Over her shoulder he spotted Bronson peeking out the open bay.

She glanced back and then took a step closer. The soft pads of her fingers slipped across the skin of his palm, and she wove their hands together. “Can I drive you home?” Her teeth caught the corner of her bottom lip and held.

He swallowed a curse, hating feeling vulnerable with every fiber of his being. Her eyes were his undoing, so he glued his to the pavement as if there was something more fascinating in the slab of concrete than in the mystifying crystal-blue amethysts he’d gotten turned around in more than once. “I don’t live far. I can walk.”

“But it’s so cold. Come on.” Tugging at his hand, she towed him along to her SUV. He conceded silently. Dodger pranced across the backseat while they waited for a train to pass through Station Plaza without a word. A few minutes later he focused on the images hurtling past the window. “Uh, Joss? You passed my place.”

“Yep.”

“Fine. Sorry for my little love tap back there, but really, can you blame a guy?”

Her smiling lips remained forward.

“My family will come looking for me, you know?” he teased.

“I know.”

“Uh, okay. Where are we going?”

“Ah, patience, Kemosabe. You’ll see.”

Chapter 15

Joselyn Whyte

Uncomfortable silence. How refreshing. Joselyn nibbled her lip until the skin felt raw, then finally risked a glance at Finn. His eyes were trained out the passenger window, looking sightlessly lost in the blur of barren trees.

What had Wally meant? Trauma? Defying orders? She wished she could rewind back and listen again, pay more attention. Instead she’d been squirmy, distracted. The faint trace of Finn’s kiss burning a hole in her cheek and the dizzying effects of his hard body against hers was enough to demote her IQ a solid twenty points.

He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and it was driving her nutso. Another five minutes of perfect silence deemed too much to take. Joselyn pressed the power button on the steering column, counteracting the unbearable stuffiness with soft whining sounds of the local country station.

“She’s trying to kill me.” Finn craned his head back.

“Thought you were sleeping over there.”

“As if anyone could sleep with this shrapnel slicing through their eardrums.” He plucked Joselyn’s cd case off the floor. “This oughtta be enlightening.”

“It’s not much farther.”

“Another minute of this, and I’ll need to have myself committed.”

“Tempting.”

Ignoring her, he turned down the volume and riffled through her collection. “Hey, Wednesday Addams, how about some music that doesn’t require happy pills?”

“What? There’s some good stuff in there.”

“The Fray, Coldplay, Adele, Jason Mraz? We need to get you a proper musical education. Maybe Zeppelin, Clapton, and REO to get you started.” He swore under his breath. “Evanescence, really?”

“Hey, now, there is nothing wrong with a little angsty girl rock. And Mraz is like the ultimate happy music. You’re crazy.”

“Whatever you say, Debbie Downer.”

“Sweet. Let’s get that in writing.” She risked another glance and got ensnared in his gaze.
Moses
, her heart actually fluttered. So lame. Thankfully, she was driving and rerouted her eyes to the road.

“What’s this Eli Young Band?”

“That’s not their newest album, but they’re amazing. Put it in.”

Finn complied none the wiser. Joselyn skipped to track two. “One of my favorites.”

It was like music therapy. The catchy tune for “Crazy Girl”
slipped like liquid Xanax through her veins, loosening her tense muscles, helping her unwind. Belatedly, she realized she’d unwound too far. Managing to forget herself long enough to add her own sing-a-long harmony and an asinine jive of her head to the beat. Oh, the horror. She froze, clamped down on her lip so hard she might have tasted blood.

Silence met her from Finn’s side of the car, and she felt his gaze like direct sunlight on already blistering cheeks.

Stupid girl
was more like it
.

She could hold her own, but she was no singer. Not like Sadie. Come to think of it, she was pretty sure Finn could sing too. She knew he played the guitar, but she’d never witnessed his talents firsthand.

Her thoughts careened from there down a very slippery slope that had her face heating even hotter. Curse her pasty skin!

“This song is like your anthem, crazy girl.” Finn’s fingers tugged a lock of her hair. “Better. Still country, though. Very sneaky.”

She lifted her hands from their ten and two vice on the wheel and shrugged before returning them, her morbid clench on the smooth woodgrain a vain effort to restrain the humiliation still broadcasting in her blazing cheeks.

Before the song ended they’d pulled up to the back entrance of her father’s property. Joselyn hopped out and unlocked the low metal gate, drove through, and repeated the act. Finn didn’t seem to realize where they were as he scanned the endless equestrian fence and vast pasture until they pulled up to the stables.

When the car came to a stop, Finn angled toward her. “We gonna go for a ride?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, I thought you could use a distraction. I always ride when I need to clear my head. And they say it’s best to get back on the horse. Or in your case, just get on the horse.”

A smile inched across his lips, his eyes, shadowed beneath a thick fringe of honey-highlighted lashes, filled with amusement. “You did something nice for me.”

“No. I simply didn’t want to deal with your sulky little tantrum. And—”

He grasped her chin, silencing her with the press of his thumb. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” He winked and skimmed over her bottom lip before retracting his hand.

Oh … oh, man.

Need. Oxygen. Joselyn sucked in a breath and of course that made him grin, all slow and knowing, completely aware of his effect on her.

Well, crap.

Not having any semblance of a comeback, she cracked the window for a snoring, belly-up Dodger before jerking open the door and fleeing the close quarters.

Deep purple ink spilled over the bleary horizon, bleeding lavender and periwinkle strokes onto the blanket of gray. The air had a frosty bite, mollified only slightly by her exhaled heat pumping out a ridiculously labored hazy white plume.

She told herself it was the late-afternoon breeze that sent a shudder to her bones and quickened breathlessly in her lungs. It had absolutely nothing to do with the muscle-bound tank of testosterone dogging her heels every step of the way. By the time she drew back the sliding door she was practically wheezing like an asthmatic. Chill pill. Stat! Of course Finn strode past, limber-legged, easy as you please, absorbing the top of the line stable with childlike wonder. Which she had to admit was a little bit adorable.

His wide starry eyes gleamed under the lights, the slight gape of his full lips lit into a boyish grin. “This is
awesome
. Which one do I get to take for a spin?”

“We’ll put you on Odie.” Joselyn pointed to the beautiful Tennessee Walker with a glossy bay coat.

“Aww, come on. That burnt red one with the black hair? He looks mean. In fact, I think he’s glaring at me. I’m much better with the
ladies
.”

“You’re so delusional, it’s cute. Odie’s a good egg. He’s strong and steady, great with first-timers, and has a real sweet disposition. Trust me. You get on that filly, LuLu, over there, she’ll buck you right off. She might be a beauty, but she’s a tough one to break.”

“Tell me about it,” Finn muttered, tucking his broad fingers into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. “And who will you be riding? Unless you want to double with me. But I must warn you, I like to be the big spoon.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

Crossing her arms, she held her ground, not giving him anything this time. “It must be exhausting being so charming.”

“It really is.”

“And modest.”

His throaty laugh rang out to the rafters, resounding like church bells. “Which horse, Joss?”

“I ride this Arabian next to Odie, Heston. He’s my fella.” Making her way to Heston’s stall she swept her hand down his neck and nuzzled his face to her own, breathing in his loyal affection and strength.

“Heston?”

Pulling back she continued her loving stroke. Heston let out a soft nicker. “I had a thing for Charlton Heston growing up. Yia-Yia made me watch
The Ten Commandments
. I thought it was gonna be a drag, but Moses in that mini-skirt … totally hot.” Heston dipped his head and nosed her waist. Reaching to the nearby bucket she offered up a carrot stick.

“Should I be jealous?”

She turned, tossing a smirk and a carrot over her shoulder toward Finn before she strode to get the saddles. “Eat your heart out.”

After a brief tutorial they were on their way. Finn surprised her with his eagerness to learn and gentle approach with Odie, not to mention the rogue cowboy look he embodied on the back of the gelding. He’d already worked his way up to a decent cantering pace. They rode in companionable silence around the clearings and into the wooded trails before slowing to a walk.

“You doing all right?”

“Great. Thanks for doing this, Joss.”

His candor caught her by surprise. Sarcastic bickering had been standard fare for each line of dialogue they’d exchanged for the past ten years. With this new breach of territory her heart felt ridiculously fluttery. Her stomach just as uneasy. But her eyes, yeah, those were steady. Steadily stuck on him like bugs on a glue board.

And of course he caught her staring. Those eyes turning midnight blue in the overcast illumination, their earnest expression yanking her back to that rare vulnerable moment in the firehouse where the arrogant lady-killer persona had seemed like a smoke screen.

“Finn?” She eased the reigns until they walked side-by-side, her voice measured and tender, knowing she was treading on thin ice. “What was Wally talking about today?”

With one blink, she lost him—all that was loose and easy between them zapped with tension, from the instantly rigid plane of his body to the locked hinge of his jaw. But it was the bleakness in his eyes that scared her the most.

“Listen, forget it. I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.” She had to look away or she feared she might cry from seeing him that way. Which was stupid and irrational. But everything was at once as fragile as the frost crushing beneath Heston’s hooves.

It’s not like he owed her an explanation. He wasn’t really her boyfriend. This was all a ruse. Except now she’d caught a glimpse behind the curtain. And what she saw rattled the boards safeguarding her heart, somehow making them kindreds of a broken past, ashamed and desperate for redemption.

But before she let herself bond over their mutually concealed scars, a voice from the past stole her sympathy. 

Oh, how easily you forget. You’re broken because of him.

Chapter 16

That freaking guy was always with her. And if it wasn’t the blonde meathead who was lusting all over her, it was that Hispanic FBI tail playing best gal pal. It was all so much more complicated now he wanted to burn them all, every last one of them, for stealing his moment of vindication again and again. He released his balled fists once he felt the blood wet his hands and then dug his nails in again—the self-inflicted wounds a physical outlet for his inner pain.

They’d all thought, because of the abuse he’d tolerated before, that he was harmless by nature. When the truth was, he’d become what they’d made him. A product of the deadly equation crammed down his throat. Each fraction of injustice had fueled the fire, layering on the rage until the weight of it would either crush him or detonate. The choice was obvious. Besides, watching things burn was fascinating. The way even an inanimate object seemed to curl inward as if seeking to hide within itself. He knew all about that. He’d hidden away in his own mind, tucking in to shield himself from the intensity of the grief and helplessness that burned away the skin of his humanity until all that remained was a twisted, bleeding heart on fire for vengeance.

Yes, someone had to burn for this. It was the only thing that made sense anymore. It was either him or her, and the agony festering within was enough torment for ten lifetimes. He would not be the only one infested with pain. She would suffer hers, a swift justice, and then the retribution would begin and the balance restored. Because if he couldn’t have love, if his reason for living was all but a dying ember of stolen memories in his soul, she would have her burning grave.