Wrapped in Flame (4 page)

“Keith raped Sandy,” Mike spat out.

“What,” “when,” and “I’m gonna kill that fucker” all came out at once. Erica wanted to throw up. She pressed her fingers tight against her lips to keep from doing so.

“He caught her in the shower about six weeks ago. It was late. Everyone else had bedded down.” Mike opened his bottle, kept his gaze locked forward. “Held a knife to her throat.”

“Why didn’t she tell anyone?” Gina’s voice was barely above a whisper. She’d gone pale.

“Fear,” CJ said. “Of him, of what he might do if he caught her alone again, of what one of us would do to him if we found out.”

“She went directly to the sheriff’s office once she got off shift.” Mike swiped his thumb over the growing moisture on the bottle.

Erica wanted to touch him, ease his upset. Hell, she wanted to apologize to everyone, even though it wasn’t her fault.

“Sandy said they didn’t take her seriously, that evidence was sparse. Accused her of an affair gone wrong. Apparently she wasn’t roughed up enough for the detective.”

“Bastard.” Bub launched to his feet. “Is that why the chief called you in?” He paced behind the recliners, beer clutched in his beefy hand.

“Nope.” Another half bottle went down Mike’s throat. He leaned forward to snag a slice of pizza. “Keith’s car was stolen. He accused Sandy. The deputies were there to check it out.”

Erica jerked to the edge of her seat and stabbed her finger into the table. “That car was in the driveway this afternoon.”

“According to the deputy, Keith said he left to meet someone and ran out of gas about two miles from town.” CJ shoved the crust into his mouth and reached for another piece. “He walked back to town, bought two five-gallon gas cans from AutoZone, filled them at the ampm, then walked back to his car, only to find it gone. So he walked back to town and called the sheriff’s office.”

“He walked two miles with ten gallons of gas?” Gina’s voice danced on the edge of laughter. “Twice?” She held up two fingers.

Mike shrugged. “Claimed it was no big deal because he’s a firefighter.”

Berto snorted. “Of course, because he’s such a damn fine firefighter.”

“Why didn’t he call for roadside assistance? A tow truck? Or call 911 the minute he saw the car was gone? And why blame Sandy?” Gina asked. “He’d know she was on-shift.”

“Who the hell knows?” Mike downed the rest of his beer and waved off the offer of a third. “The alleged jacking was about the same time she might normally make a chow run. Maybe he thought he could throw suspicion her way. She was on a fire call, so it’s bullshit, and now the deputies know it too. Maybe he accused her to shore up his claim to need restraining orders against us. It might be to help him refute the rape and continue his claim she was a pissed-off lover. He’d apparently convinced deputies of that before. With the suit, he’d want to hit that note again.” Mike rubbed his neck. “Nothing he’s done today makes any sense.”

Bub leaned on the back of the recliner. “He’d know it would piss us off. So why?”

CJ hauled in a breath, exchanged a look with Mike, then released it. “We suspect he knew the chief was getting ready to fire him. All of this could be to back up his claim of wrongful termination.”

It made sense. It’d be something Keith would do. One thing Erica had learned was that Keith was very good at getting what he wanted. He’d mastered the skills of fast-talk, deception, cunning, and all the other traits for which con artists were famous. Erica knew. She’d fallen for his lies. He’d found an easy mark and had gone after her like a great white in a school of anchovies.

Car doors slammed. Kids’ voices reached them, followed by Trish’s command to help carry stuff in. More doors slammed, more people arrived. Erica appreciated their support but really wished for space right now.

“I don’t want to talk about this in front of the rest of the family,” Mike said. “Especially not the kids.”

Erica could trump that. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore
at all
, and once Trish walked through that door, that was exactly what she’d want to do. For a person who stood at five foot nothing, Trish was a force to be reckoned with. She was their matriarch, the one who handled everything, the one who took care of it all. Nurturing, protective, and yes…bossy when she had to be. Once she got Erica alone, Trish would start digging.

Nope. Strength was what she needed now. Strength to get through this ordeal, strength to rebuild her life, strength to go after what she wanted. Like the man sitting next to her.

“This house is about to get very crowded. Let’s take this to the backyard.” She was on her feet and heading toward the back door before anyone else could agree.

They weren’t long in following her. The men retrieved the white resin chairs from the storage shed in the corner of the yard so that by the time the four Delaney boys burst through the back door, heading toward the pool, tables and chairs were ready for whatever food was following behind them.

Ensconced in one of the few chaise lounges, Erica laughed as she watched each boy toss his T-shirt and sandals to the four winds, then cannonball into the pool. Once the older boys were in, the other children joined them. Adults ringed the pool in groups of chairs, one eye always on the children. God she loved these people. What a relief to be with them and not have to worry about the tension Keith’s presence always created. And to think they’d suffered him because they liked her. Their sacrifice humbled her. And this was the thanks they got. More harassment from Keith.

The chairs on either side of Erica creaked as they were occupied—Gina on one side, Trish on the other. She was doomed.

Erica glanced at Trish, amazed how a woman so busy with four boys ranging in ages from four to ten managed to always have a fresh manicure. She’d asked her once. Trish’s response had been a sly smile, the hint of a blush, and the confession that Tim loved seeing a woman with nice hands, and she’d never disappointed. Today her nails honored the seashore, with tiny golden shells on each one. She flicked them through her pixie cut, ordering the brown strands into place.

“I always thought of us as a tight-knit bunch,” Trish said but didn’t make eye contact. “With one exception, of course.”

Gina leaned toward them as far as her chair allowed. “You talk with Tim in the last hour?”

“I did.” She nodded. “Never in my life have I ever wished someone more dead than now.” Trish turned those penetrating brown eyes on Erica. “You good?”

Define good.
“Yes, I am.” She watched the kids cavorting in the pool and smiled. “I’d be better if I had my swimsuit with me.” Or if she’d changed from her work clothes into something more comfortable. A skirt and blouse weren’t cutting it right now. At least she’d had the sense to kick off her flats at the front door. Capris and a tank top would have been much better. It might be October, but it was still plenty warm in their little corner of the desert.

“The kids would be on you like piranha on a wildebeest,” Trish said.

“Piranhas are in South America. Wildebeest are in Africa.” Erica couldn’t help herself.

“A cow, then. My point is, they will inundate you.”

Erica shrugged. “I’m not worried. I’m sure I can find a firefighter who’d be willing to rescue me.”

“I’m sure you could,” they replied.

“One in particular,” Trish added.

Heat flushed Erica from head to toe. They knew? How?

“His interest in you has been apparent for a long time,” Gina said.

“And no, he hasn’t been talking. Anyone with eyes can see,” Trish added.

Erica’s heartbeat thumped against her sternum. It didn’t help that the object of their discussion loped into the backyard, dressed in swim trunks, and plunged into the pool amid kids squealing with delight.

“It’s been hard to stay quiet,” Gina said. “But you
were
married to someone else.”

“And now you’re not. His interest isn’t the only one we’ve noticed. Your eyes light up when you’re around him.” Trish drummed her nails on the arm of the chair. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

She wouldn’t. “Mike and I have never—”

Gina’s hand snapped up. “Oh, trust me, we know. There’s no one more aboveboard than the two of you. We’re just making sure you understand the lay of the land.”

Erica understood it very well. That kiss he’d given had left no doubt. However… “If it’s been so obvious to all of you, then you can bet it’s been obvious to Keith too. If you think he’s making everyone’s life a living hell right now, he’ll double his attacks if he even thinks Mike and I are—”

“You think
we’re
going to tell that jackass?” Trish splayed her hand on her chest. “After what he did to Sandy, he’s lucky if any of us let him live to see the sunrise.”

Erica closed her eyes and wished for a do-over button that put her in the pool with the kids and away from this conversation. Leaving altogether also had its appeal.

“I need you there… Waited forever… Wanted you forever… Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She understood very well. She had needs and wants too. They’d clawed for freedom from deep inside ever since she’d met Mike. Erica had let a fool blind her. A fool who still threatened to block her happiness. Never again. She was the one in control. Finally. Her life. Her choice.

“So now what?” Trish asked.

There was only one way to respond. “Now I take things a step at a time.”

Erica watched Mike in the pool. Needing him, wanting him. But what happened once those wants and needs were fulfilled? What happened when they breached friendship and turned into lovers? Or had the kiss already changed their status? Too late to unring that bell. Mike seemed on a fast track to something here. Someone had to slow that train down. Much as she wanted him—and she truly did—Erica wasn’t willing to relinquish her life and her control to any man. At least, not that fast. Once burned, twice shy. And Mike Barnard was a man who could definitely set her heart and soul on fire.

She drank in the sight of him playing with the kids, letting them take him down again and again. They loved every second. He climbed slowly up the steps, giggling children dripping from his shoulders, waist, and biceps. He let them drag him back into the water, let them have control. Would he be so indulgent with her? Would he let her have that level of control?

There was only one way to find out.

Chapter Four

Erica remained curled in the corner of Mike’s couch, waving good-bye to the last of the crew. No one commented on the fact she was still there. Why would they, when everyone supposedly
knew
how much she and Mike wanted each other? It would have been nice if she and Mike had been aware of that. Or perhaps not. It would have complicated matters.

As if things aren’t already a mess.

True, but it wasn’t a mess either of them had created. They’d been content as friends, never looking for anything beyond that. How had Gina put it? They were aboveboard. Well, they hadn’t wasted much time dancing around the subject now, had they? Or at least Mike hadn’t.

He shut the door behind CJ, then looked her way, one hand on the deadbolt. “I presume you’ve agreed to stay?”

Erica’s gaze connected with his. “I presume if I don’t, you’ll follow me to the hotel?”

Mike turned the lock. “I think we could both use a glass of wine right now. Pinot noir all right?”

“Perfect.” She picked at a hangnail rather than give in to the sight of his ass as he walked into the kitchen. She’d stolen more than a few looks tonight. He’d changed from swim trunks into cargo shorts and a T-shirt and still had the nerve to look killer handsome.

“I noticed you and CJ were off whispering in the corner earlier. Care to share?” she called out.

A cork popped, followed by the clink of glasses. “Craig Stanton talked with the fire-department attorney. He suggested it would be in everyone’s best interest to put Keith on paid administrative leave pending a full investigation. He’ll be notified when he reports for work.”

“Well, isn’t that skippy.” She’d have a very, very small window to get into the house for her things.

“Don’t worry.” Mike returned with their wine and a smile. “Craig plans to drag out the process long enough to give us time to move your stuff. Keith won’t be cut loose until we’re ready.”

“Thanks.” She curled her fingers around the glass, brushing his in the process.

Mike parked himself on the other side of the couch. “We’re all set to visit the school on Monday. Want me to put you on the truck so your students will think you’re cool?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though.” Erica took a sip of wine to cover her lack of smile. Enough small talk. “You have to know I’m nervous.”

“You aren’t the only one.”

“This will change everything between us.”

“It will,” he admitted, then smiled. “I’d like to think for the better.”

“And if not?” Erica glanced at him over the rim of her glass.

“At least we would have tried rather than wonder what-if.”

His thumb traced the bowl of the glass. She imagined its feel over her breast. The calloused surface skimming over her nipple.
Damn.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” It would hurt more than anything else.

“I would hope we’re both mature enough to not let that happen. There are friends who’ve had sex, then remained friends when they realized it didn’t work. There are friends who have sex because they’re helping each other out.”

Erica laughed. “I’m not fuck-buddy material.”

“Oh, baby, I know. The things I’d like to do with you go well beyond fucking.”

The words, issued with sultry intent, slithered deep inside her. Heat rushed her and settled between her thighs.

“I think I just might be jealous of the women you’ve been with since I’ve known you.” They did seem to trot in and out of his life with annoying regularity.

“No need. One-night stands. Some not even that.” He shrugged. “No apologies. I’m a healthy male, and I do enjoy sex. And before you think you’re going to go in the one-night-stand category, let me say this. When one can’t have what one wants, one fills the void somehow.”