16. fourteen
fourteen
. . .
CREW
“ You can stay with me .”
Aspen’s fork clattered to the table, the guys around the table going silent like a gun had gone off.
She shook her head. “No, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me to do anything,” I promised. “You need a place to stay, I have a spare room. I’m happily offering it up to a friend in need. We’re…friends, right?”
One of the guys snickered—likely Tuck—but I didn’t look away from Aspen’s face to glare at him. Having this conversation in front of my men wasn’t ideal, but Aspen moving in with me would become public knowledge quickly, spreading through town like wildfire.
“You’ve already saved my life, Crew,” she whispered. “You can’t do this for me too.”
“Saving your life was me doing my job. This I’m doing because I want to. Please .”
I wasn’t above begging, and I offered her what I hoped was a reassuring smile while I waited for her response.
My brother would surely shit a brick when he learned what I’d done, but there wasn’t a single cell in my body that gave a fuck. There was something happening here with Aspen, some string in the loom of fate being tugged, and I knew I’d be a fucking moron to ignore it.
I couldn’t let her leave without giving us the chance to explore this thing that sparked to life and hummed beneath my skin whenever she was near.
“Are you sure?” she asked, eyes darting across my face as though searching for an indication that I was about to withdraw the invitation.
She wouldn’t find it.
I hadn’t been this sure of anything in a long fucking time.
“Positive. In fact,” I said, rising from my seat and pulling her up with me, that inexplicable electrical current coursing through my body at the contact. “Follow me.”
I led her through the station until we reached the locker room. Opening mine, I fished around in my bag until my hand closed around my keys, and I handed them over.
“Take my truck,” I told her as I rifled around the top shelf in search of the stack of sticky notes and a pen. I quickly jotted down the code to my security system and pressed that into her palm. “The opener will get you in the garage, this key”—I indicated a silver one—“will let you into the house, and that code will disable the security system long enough for you to get settled. Then you can arm it again.”
“What kind of firefighter are you?” she asked, glancing up at me.
“One with a brother who owns a private security firm.”
Aspen eyed me suspiciously. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Five,” I said, ushering her back out of the locker room and toward the side exit of the building.
“There are six of you?”
“And a baby sister.”
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered as I pushed her along, my hand on the small of her back, the heat of her skin seeping into my palm through the thin material of her shirt.
I chuckled. “Jesus had nothing to do with it.”
We reached my truck then—a brand spankin’ new Chevy Silverado 2500HD, completely blacked out with a tool box in the bed—and Aspen spun toward me, placing her hands on my chest to halt my progress.
Curl your fingers into my shirt, darlin’ , I silently urged. Pull me closer.
She didn’t, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t a little disappointed. Aspen simply let her hands linger, staring up at me. “What’s your brother going to say?”
“Fuck my brother.”
“Crew…”
“Aspen.”
“Be serious.”
“I am being serious. Lane doesn’t get to dictate your life because he’s the sheriff. You have as much right to be here as anyone else, and if the rest of the town won’t welcome you in, I’m making it my job to fix that.”
Gently, I settled my hands on her hips and shifted her out of the way, then opened the driver’s door for her. Even with the running boards, she was so petite it would clearly be a struggle for her to get inside, so I took pity on her and lifted her into the seat myself.
“Fire it up,” I said, indicating the button to start it. “Foot on the brake.”
After inching the seat forward so she could reach the pedals, she did as I asked, the engine roaring to life. God, I loved that sound.
“Now what?”
“Tap into the GPS and punch in my address.” I rattled it off, and that creepy robotic voice filtered through the speakers, telling Aspen where to go first. “It’s a bit out of town, but you’ll be safe there. Make yourself comfortable. There’s only one guest room because I use the other as my office, so I’m sure you can figure it out. Now give me your phone and keys.”
She did as I requested, and after pocketing the keys, because I’d have to take her SUV home when I got off shift, I punched my number in her phone, then sent myself a text to make sure I’d have hers.
“Text me if you have any issues. I’ll be home around 8:30 tomorrow morning, and I’ll likely sleep most of the day. Once I’m up, we can figure out what’s next.”
Aspen narrowed those gorgeous cinnamon eyes on me. “Why are you being so nice?”
Because, inexplicably, I care about you.
But there was no fucking way I could tell her that, not when this was effectively the second legitimate conversation we’d ever had.
“You’ve been through enough,” I said instead.
“Thank you, Crew,” she whispered.
Fuck, my name on her lips had blood stirring in my groin, and I had to let her leave before I did something crazy like haul her into the backseat and make her say it with a lot more volume and pleasure behind it.
Shaking my head, I croaked out, “No problem,” and stepped out of the way so she could close the door. Then I stood there like a schmuck and watched her drive away.
“You’ve got it baaaaaaaaaaaad,” someone said from behind me, and I whirled to find Tuck standing there, leaning against the side of the building with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug expression on his face.
“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, pushing past him, his answering cackle following me inside.
Aspen’s car was a fucking death trap .
The thing rattled and hummed concerningly as I drove home, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled to a stop in front of my garage. Both because I’d survived and because I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and sleep for the next seven hours.
We’d had five calls overnight, which was admittedly a lot. But with the weather warming up and school getting closer to ending, stupid kids were getting bolder.
And that boldness led to recklessness.
I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and got out, moving to the garage door and punching in the code to let me in. Once it closed again, I let myself into the house, dropped my bag in the laundry room as always, and padded down the hall.
Everything was undisturbed, almost like no one but me was there. But I could sense the charge in the air, alerting me to the fact that I wasn’t alone. Letting me know that down the hall, Aspen lay sleeping.
As I made my way toward my room, I paused outside her door and cracked it open to check on her. She was on her stomach, limbs starfished across the mattress, her hair a dark fan across the pillow. The swelling around her eyes had gone down completely, and the bruising around them was now a faint yellow tinge versus the horrific purple it had been in the hospital. Her breath snuffled softly, and with sleep slackening her features, she looked much younger than her thirty-three years. Like all the hurt and hardness she carried melted away until her true, gentle nature shined through. I found myself deeply pleased that she appeared to be resting comfortably, and I was grateful I could be the one to give her this soft place to land.
Reluctantly, I forced myself to walk away and go to bed before she caught me staring at her like a creep.
As I drifted into the land between slumber and awake, my phone chimed.
Sheriff
Outside. NOW.
Shit .
Yes, I had Lane saved in my phone as “Sheriff,” much to his annoyance, and it looked like my big brother found out what I’d done sooner than I planned. I had hoped to at least get some sleep before he showed up to rip my head off.
And honestly, who the fuck showed up at someone’s house, unannounced, at eight o’clock in the morning?
I dressed quickly, cursing Lane the whole time, before heading out of the front door and meeting him on my front porch.
The door was barely closed behind me before he exploded, not even bothering with a greeting before launching into his tirade.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? She’s the only witness in this case. Ever, Crew. The only woman who has ever survived. I’m not going to let you fuck it up so you can get your dick wet.”
“Fuck you,” I spat at him. “That’s not what this is about. This is about the fact that you had her blacklisted from every hotel and short-term rental in this town!”
He at least had the wherewithal to appear remorseful. “And I’m sorry for that. But I’m trying to keep her safe by getting her to leave.”
“Then you don’t know her very well.”
“Neither do you!” he shouted. “You met her two weeks ago, and suddenly you’re giving her a room in your house? This is so unlike you.”
I gritted my teeth against the endless retorts I had lined up, attempting to marshal my temper. “Trying to keep someone safe is very like me, actually. And with this fucker still at large, Aspen is very much still in danger.”
“I want her gone, Crew. ”
“That’s not up to you.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Why are you ? You said it yourself, Lane. She’s the only surviving victim. And she’s a private investigator. Seems to me you could benefit from working together.”
“I don’t work with civilians,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Maybe you should start. Have you even bothered to look into her?”
“No…” he said, scuffing the toe of his boot through the gravel to avoid looking at me.
“Do that,” I told him, turning away to head back into the house. “Then come talk to me.”
Before I got too far, his hand clamped onto my shoulder, halting my progress and spinning me back around. “I’m warning you, Crew. You fuck up this investigation, you interfere in any way, and I won’t hesitate to lock your ass up. Understood?”
I nodded. “Whatever you say, Boss Man. Keep me updated on the investigation.”
“That’s not how this works, little bro.”
“Of course it is. Whatever happens to her is my business now.”
“Only because you made it your business, you dumb fuck.”
I grinned but it was all teeth. “You love me.”
Lane sighed sharply through his nose and wrapped his arm around my neck, giving me a noogie before I pinched his side and he released me with a yelp.
“Get back inside you little shit. Keep an eye on that girl.”
Trust me , I thought. My eyes aren’t going anywhere else.
With a mock salute, I pushed back inside, crawled into bed, and promptly passed out.
When I woke several hours later, after the kind of deep sleep that momentarily disoriented me, the first thing I noticed was something smelled good.
Really good.
But…why?
And then I remembered: Aspen.
Aspen McKay was in my home, living here now , and apparently, whipping up something delicious in my kitchen.
I took the fastest shower of my life and slipped into some sweats before I went out to greet her.
Aspen wore nothing but a long, oversized tee, her shapely legs and the bottom curve of her ass on display when she reached overhead to dig in my cupboards. Her burn marks peeked out from beneath her black cotton panties, the edges raised, shiny, and bright pink.
In my line of work, avoiding burns was impossible, and I’d sustained a major injury back in Chicago about ten years ago. The scar that would never go away stretched nearly six inches along my left forearm was the reason I got my first tattoo—ultimately leading to the full sleeve.
On silent feet, I approached the island and leaned against it. She hadn’t heard me come in, and I was content to watch her for a moment. Her hair was shorter than it’d been—likely thanks to the fire—brushing the tops of her shoulders instead of trailing down her back like it had before. Somehow, I enjoyed this version of her more. While visions of wrapping the length of it around my fist as I pounded her from behind were no longer viable, I was adaptable. She looked like a sexy little pixie I wanted to put in my pocket and keep safe forever.
I loudly cleared my throat.
She whirled on me, tugging the hem of the shirt down to make sure it covered her panties.
I was happy to report it failed—miserably.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, face blushing deeply. “I’m so sorry. I was looking for coffee. I thought you were still sleeping. I’ll just—” She moved around the counter and disappeared down the hall, her door slamming shut behind her a moment later.
Whatever she’d been cooking still bubbled on the stove, so I lifted the lid on the pot to find some sort of soup with tomatoes, hamburger, and rice bobbing on the surface.
A moment later, she reappeared…wearing pants. I bit back a groan.
“I’m so sorry again about that,” she said as she moved toward the stove, shoving me out of the way to stir the soup. Her cheeks were as red as the tomatoes, and I loved that I flustered her so much. “I’ll start remembering to put pants on. I’m so used to living alone, you know?” She glanced up at me. “I haven’t had to share space with someone in a really long time, and?—”
I cut her off with a finger to her lips, a dangerous touch that singed my skin. “It’s fine, Aspen. Really. This is your home now too. Do whatever makes you comfortable.”
And it was fine … even if I’d be fucking my fist later to nothing but the memories of her sexy, silky-smooth legs, and the idea of how they’d feel wrapped around my waist—or my head.
I really had to get my shit together.