Bullets & Bonfires

  In the four years since I left, the neighborhood hasn’t changed all that much. Well, our childhood home looks different. Cared for. That has to be my brother’s doing. It sure as hell hadn’t looked this nice when we were kids.

  Gravel crunches next to me. My scared heart slams against my ribs, sweat trickles down my back.

  Not Chad. Not Chad. Not Chad.

  My left hand curls around the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles hurt. In my other hand, I grasp my keys. Chad’s in jail.

  Finally, it registers that it’s Liam’s patrol car pulling in.

  I’m safe.

  Deep breath. In and out.

  I glance over and a shaky smile curves my lips. Liam holds up a few fingers, indicating he’s on the phone and will be right out.

  Take your time.

  No doubt he’s on the phone with Vince. A mixture of joy, relief, and a few complicated emotions I can’t name, war inside me.

  Liam’s here. For me.

  Correction, Liam’s here to do a favor for my brother.

  A few seconds later his door swings open and he stalks toward my car. My stomach flips with anticipation. I haven’t been near Liam in so long.

  For the millionth time, I wish I’d said no when the hospital told me to call my brother. Mortification twisted my insides the whole time I tried to explain to him what happened. He ordered me home like I was a naughty teenager instead of an adult. Now Liam’s here to make my humiliation complete.

  How many times did my brother and I take refuge at Liam’s house when my mother went on a bender or one of her boyfriends smacked her around? Turns out, I’m no better than she was.

  I wheeze out a painful breath. Allowing Liam to see me in this condition almost hurts more than my actual injuries. I’ve idolized him, crushed on him, loved him since I was a kid. Resisting his masculine beauty, wicked sense of humor and habit of protecting me was impossible.

  I may have fallen for Liam a long time ago.

  But he was never going to catch me.

  I know that, and yet I can’t stop the fluttering in my stomach.

  I’d never be more than little Bree to him. Vince’s baby sister. Not Brianna who finished near the top of her high school class and was accepted into a competitive psychology program. Not the Brianna who’s been accepted to a prestigious university to finish my master’s degree.

  Now? He’ll see me as pathetic and broken Brianna. Crawling home after her boyfriend beat the crap out of her. As a deputy sheriff in our small hometown, I’m sure he sees women like me all the time. Pathetic, weak, and stupid women who mistake smooth lines, out-of-control jealousy, and lavish gifts for love.

  I let out a final sigh and paste on a fake smile as I step out of my car to greet him. My stupid heart stumbles all over itself as I take in every masculine inch. In the sunlight, copper highlights glint throughout his familiar coffee brown hair. It’s long enough for me to run my fingers through—not that he’d ever allow that. His full lips may look soft and inviting, but I know all too well how firm and obstinate they can be. All the boyish charm I remember has been replaced with a hard-faced, and hard-bodied—but I choose to ignore that for the moment—man. Liam’s easy swagger radiates confidence and safety. Two things I desperately need at the moment.

  As he meets my eyes, his lips curve into a tender half-smile, reminding me why I’m here. The small spark of excitement at seeing him fizzles. Pity, plain as day, is written all over his handsome face. He holds out his arms to me. “Come here, baby girl. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  My traitorous body quivers at the sound of his smooth, deep voice. For a brief second, I’m thrown back to the night of my high school graduation when he used those same arms to shove me away when my brother caught us kissing.

  Apparently, my body forgot the sting of rejection, because I rush into his waiting arms. Throwing myself against him, I allow myself a few seconds of safe, simple comfort. His familiar woodsy scent conjures up a lot of fond memories.

  The moment his sturdy arms band around me, a ragged sob tears out of my throat. He runs one big hand over my hair, and makes soft soothing noises.

  “I got you, Bree. You’re safe now.”

  I never want him to let me go.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rage boils inside me at the sight of the once-vibrant girl in my arms. Big, bug-eyed sunglasses or not, I caught another glimpse of the bruises on her face before she buried her head against my chest.

  “Tell me what happened, Bree. Who did this to you?”

  Her muffled whimper makes me regret questioning her so soon. But I have to know who did this so I can plan how to kill them.

  My hands curl into fists and I struggle to straighten them out and keep running them over Bree’s back. If I could carry her pain, I’d do it. No question.

  She flinches, and I hesitate. Where else is she hurt? An unfamiliar, out-of-control sensation threatens to blow the top of my head off as I consider the possibilities.

  Nothing in my professional training prepared me for this. Maybe that makes me a shitty cop. I don’t know. I’ve dealt with DV victims before. Locked up plenty of husbands who were too quick with their fists.

  It made me angry every single time.

  But nothing like this.

  “Honey,” I say gently, trying to keep my voice calm and professional. “Is Chad the one who hurt you?”

  It’ll take everything in me not to hunt Chad down and beat the living fuck out of him if he did this to my little Bree. I need to know every single detail so I can fix this for her.

  One more sniffle from Bree threatens to shatter me, and I wrap my arms around her tighter.

  Against my body, she seems fragile and tiny. What kind of “man” hurts a woman?

  Slowly, she unwraps her arms from around my waist before I’m ready to let her go.

  Shoving the sunglasses up and settling them on top of her head, she brushes a few stray tears off her cheeks. One look at the full extent of the bruising sends me back into murderous-rage territory.

  She must sense my fury, because she quickly tugs the sunglasses back down. “It looks worse than it feels. I’m okay, really.”

  I was in enough fights as a teenager to know she’s lying. Her bright blue eyes may have temporarily lost the sparkle I remember, but her courage reassures me.

  “Thank you for being here, Liam.”

  “I’m always here for you.” Sure wish I’d been there to prevent this.

  Our eyes lock and I nod, hoping to encourage her to tell me what happened. “Tell me the truth. Did Chad do this?” I ask again.

  She nods slowly and I suck in a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. “Where is he now?”

  “Empire County Jail,” she whispers.

  “Good.”

  My eyes take more of her in. I haven’t seen her in at least two years. Bree isn’t a little girl anymore. She’s grown into a stunning woman.

  A woman who just got knocked around by her boyfriend, dickhead.

  “Please don’t—”

  “Don’t what, Bree?”

  “Get involved. He’s in jail and the judge denied bail. I’ll be fine. I’m okay,” she says, but I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or convince me.

  Okay my ass.

  Unwanted memories of her high school graduation flood my brain. Sweet little Bree had curled herself around my body, stared up into my face, and informed me she wasn’t a kid any more before asking me to be her first. Like an idiot, I’d given in and kissed her. Wanted to do a hell of a lot more.

  Vince catching his best friend making out with his sister behind their house had not gone over well.

  In the academy, I’d been tasered, tear-gassed, and pepper-sprayed, but pushing Bree away to save my friendship with her brother remains the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  Because I really, really wanted to be her first.

  How would things have turned out if I’d followed my instincts? Told my best fri
end to fuck off, mind his own business. Explained that I was crazy about his sister and he better suck it up?

  But she was barely out of high school. About to leave for college when I had no plans to leave our small town. She was off limits in so many ways.

  Now, she’s home to recover from something horrible. Not to be manhandled. No matter how much I want to keep my arms around her, I have to let her go. It’s the right thing to do.

  She’s not only Vince’s little sister, she’s my friend. And I want—no, I need—to do everything possible to help her through this.

  Coming on to her is not helpful. It’s not what a good friend would do.

  “I don’t have a key anymore, so I guess that’s why Vince called you?”

  I’m struggling here. Unsure of which role to slip into. Detached cop consoling a victim? Friend? More-than-friend?

  Definitely not the last one.

  “He called early this morning. I would’ve found someone to cover my shift, if…”

  If I’d know the reason for her return, I would have called in to work and hauled ass to Empire County Jail to beat the life out of Chad.

  “I’ll be fine. I can entertain myself.”

  “I’m sure you can.” To stop myself from pulling her into my arms again or something stupid, I lean over to check out her car. “Packed pretty full.”

  “I kind of left my apartment in a hurry. All my worldly possessions are in there.” She lets out a short laugh. “It’s not much.”

  So much for not saying anything stupid. Before I can apologize or reassure her in some way, she spins and opens the trunk. I jam my hand in my pocket, pull out Vince’s key, and go prop open the front door.

  When I return, I find her bent over searching for something in the trunk.

  “Go on inside. I’ll take care of everything.”

  My voice startles her, and she bonks her head on the trunk lid.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry.” I reach out and run my hand over her head to soothe the bump.

  She leans into my touch and whispers, “I’m just jumpy.”

  A searing rush of protectiveness surges through my body, twisting and clawing at me. I’m furious. At the man who did this to her. At myself for not keeping better tabs on her. Hell, I’m even pissed at Vince for not being here when his sister needs him.

  “I can carry my own stuff,” she protests.

  Arguing with Bree is the last thing I want to do today, so I grab the heaviest boxes and allow her to take care of the rest.

  “What do you think of the house?” I ask after setting the last box down in the entryway.

  “It’s—wow.”

  “Vince gutted it and redid everything.”

  “He sent me a few pictures. But it’s totally different to see it in person.” She sweeps her gaze over the boxes. “Oh, I forgot something.”

  In case whatever it is weighs as much as the last box I brought in, I follow her outside.

  Mistake.

  She opens the driver’s side back door, bending over and halfway crawling across the seat to grab something.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter while staring at the sky. How had I missed those tiny, fucking micro-shorts that leave zero to my overheated imagination? I drop my gaze in time to find her backing out of the car.

  And catch the smattering of bruises on her thighs. Small. Like fingers.

  From rough sex? Manhandling? Something worse?

  What the fuck? Without thinking about how inappropriate it is, I reach out, skimming my fingers over her leg.

  She inhales a sharp breath. “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “Your legs are bruised. Did he…? What happened?”

  Her cheeks flame pink. “It’s nothing.” She slaps my hand away. “I’m fine.”

  Shit. What the hell was I thinking putting my hands on her? I’d never touch a vic like that.

  She’s not a vic. She’s your friend and she’s hurt. Stop being a creep and get a grip.

  She stalks into the house while I check in with the station. I need a minute to gain control of myself, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t erase the image of her bruised skin from my mind.

  I can’t stop gawking at the house. Shiny hardwood floors instead of the beer-stained, cigarette-burned, avocado-colored carpet we’d grown up with. Soft blue walls with crisp, white trim instead of peeling wallpaper.

  “Vince works on it every chance he gets,” Liam explains. His voice jolts me out of my childhood memories, chasing the bad vibes out the door.

  “I guess so. It’s beautiful.” I laugh when we enter the living room. A giant flat-screen television takes up most of one wall. That’s my brother. I can vividly imagine him sprawled out on the brown leather couch, shouting at the screen during Sunday Night Football.

  The pain of missing my big brother hits me hard. Why didn’t I visit more often?

  Pointless question. I know the answer. Chad. Chad. Chad. He never liked me spending time with anyone except him. First, he alienated me from my friends. Then my brother, and especially Liam, once he knew I’d had a crush on him.

  Oh, Chad pretended he was concerned about me having enough time to study. Overwhelmed with my boyfriend’s single-minded focus, it took me a while to catch on to his act. For someone who was supposed to be so smart, I’d been awfully stupid.

  Liam’s voice cuts off my trip down Bad-Decision Lane. “Vince said you should take his room. He hasn’t set up a guest room yet.”

  “Oh, okay.” A glance shows that Liam’s watching me intently. Unable to stand the scrutiny, I head down the hallway. Away from him.

  Each step I take stirs up a new memory that threatens to unhinge me.

  A lump forms in my throat as I pass the bathroom. Teenage Vince had installed locks on that door to keep out one of my mother’s sleazy boyfriends who’d offered to “help” me at bath time.

  I pause before stepping into what had once been my mother’s room. Well, mine and my mother’s old rooms. Gone was the one thin wall separating her room from mine. The wall that had provided quite an education before I even understood what all the men coming and going from her room meant. Gone was my tinier room where I’d spent a lot of nights under my bed with my fingers plugging my ears. My brother knocked down the wall and turned both spaces into one big master suite.

  “Wow.” The gleaming hardwood floors continue into the bedroom, warmed by braided throw rugs. “I’m impressed with Vince’s good taste.” I point to the navy and orange comforter tossed over the bed. “Except for that.”

  Liam’s quick bark of laughter chases away the gloom that had settled over me.

  “He spends a lot of time reading those DIY magazines and watching home improvement shows,” he explains.

  A picture on the dresser draws me closer. Vince, Liam, and me on the night of my high school graduation. Hours before I made the dumbest mistake of my life. Without thinking, I brush my fingers over my lips.

  I catch my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Well, second dumbest mistake.

  “I have the same picture,” Liam says, gently taking the photo out of my hands. “I was so proud of you.”

  Yeah, right. I’d embarrassed the hell out of myself that night by propositioning Liam after my graduation party. That kiss meant more to me than any gift I received that day. Until my brother ruined it. And Liam chose his friendship with my brother over me.

  Vince accused me of being drunk. Wish I could say that was the reason I attempted to seduce Liam in my clumsy, girlish way, but I hadn’t even tasted alcohol at the time.

  A good girl through and through.

  At least I was.

  Now, I’m a battered girl.

  “If only you’d known what I’d turn into,” I blurt out.

  “Hey,” Liam says, gently gripping my shoulder. “You’ve turned into a smart, beautiful woman.”

  Does he really see me that way? My gaze lands on the sleeve of his uniform shirt—that his arm stretches almost to th
e limits—then shifts to the Empire County Sheriff Department patch he sports on the left shoulder. Liam always wanted to be a sheriff. And now he is.

  I always wanted to be a successful professional, far away from the upstate New York town I grew up in.

  Yet, I’m right back where I started.

  “I don’t know about smart or beautiful, but I am a woman,” I joke back. It’s a lie though. Standing next to big, strong, has-it-together Liam makes me feel like an awkward little girl all over again.

  He sets the photo back on the dresser without responding. A quick glance at his face yields nothing. He could be mentally agreeing with me or planning how to get the hell out of here.

  Hard to tell.

  The thought of being left alone in this house full of memories of all my screw-ups turns my stomach upside down. There’s no way I’d ask Liam to stay over. He’d think I was throwing myself at him.

  I can’t handle being turned down by Liam again. Even if it’s for something as simple as friendly company.

  “You probably want to get home,” I say, holding my hand out for the house key.

  He drops a shiny silver key into my hand. I let out a sad laugh at the tiny, pink crown key chain it’s attached to. Liam loved calling me princess when I was little. Around thirteen, I decided I hated it and asked him to stop. Now, it only brings back pleasant memories.

  “I’m sure you have lots of things to do. Thanks for stopping by to—”

  He cuts me off before I can offer him an excuse to leave.

  “Yeah, you know me. Gotta get home to feed the chickens and slop the pigs.”

  I stare at him for a second before it kicks in that he’s teasing me.

  “Well, I’m sure there’s some lucky girl waiting on you.”

  He shifts away. “There’s no girlfriend, Brianna. I do have to go back to work, though.”

  “Oh.” I squirm and flick a bead of sweat off my forehead.

  “Damn. I should’ve turned on the A/C. It’s supposed to be in the eighties this week.”

  I can’t help staring at him in disbelief and following him to the control panel in the hallway. This house had only ever had window fans that barely brought in a breeze. I watch as Liam flicks a switch and the low hum of machinery kicks on. A slight, cool breeze drifts over my shoulders.