Burned Too Hot: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 2) Page 15

  He paused. “Tell me what you need. I can…”

  “Shh.”

  Val went to work on his clothes, pulling the t-shirt over his head, unbuttoning his jeans, easing denim and underwear down his thighs.

  He sprang free, and she held him, one hand on his shaft, the other cradling from underneath.

  “I’m not a victim,” she whispered.

  “I know you’re not.”

  “I don’t want pity.”

  “I don’t pity you.” He swallowed. “I want you.”

  “Then you understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  She didn’t explain. Instead she showed him, pulling him up her body until he was straddling her chest. Then she brought her lips to his tip and took him in her mouth.

  He tasted of the salt of sweat and that of excitement, and she swirled him and lapped at him before taking him deeper.

  “Oh, God.”

  Val skimmed her fingers over his hips, and grabbed his buttocks, one in each palm, brought him closer, deeper.

  He moved with her, his hips pumping, her fingers digging in, urging him on.

  “Val,” he said, gasping. “I have to stop.”

  She kept moving, kept pushing him into her with her hands and stroking his length with her tongue.

  “Val…” He locked his legs, letting out a groan. Then he pulled back, out of her mouth, and swung his leg off as if dismounting a horse.

  Once again, those damn tears swamped Val’s eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

  Lund settled on his side, stretching along the length of her body, his skin touching hers. “You know I liked it. Shit, Val.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “You wanted me to come? In your mouth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. Do I need a reason? Not all women hate that kind of thing, you know.”

  “I know. Only…”

  “Only what? You wanted to take care of me, but the other way around is wrong?”

  “No man on earth is going to tell you a blow job is wrong.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “You said it yourself. I was taking care of you, and now you’re taking care of me. I don’t want this to be about pity and burdens and serving each other. I want it to be about us.”

  Pressure beat down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Lund settled on the pillow beside her, his body stretching along hers, his erection pressing into her hip.

  She’d tried so hard not to want him, so hard. To think that they might have a chance together… it was more than she could accept. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I don’t need a commitment. I just want to know we’re in this together.”

  Not certain her voice would work, she nodded.

  Lund brought his arm around her, burying his fingers in her hair. Dipping his head, he claimed her mouth.

  His lips were willing and responsive. His body molded around her, enfolded her, accepted her, as if he wasn’t just kissing with his lips and tongue, but with every fiber of his being.

  She couldn’t deny it. No matter what the cost, she wanted this, wanted it so much, it was a physical ache. They fit. Not just their bodies, but their movements and their thoughts, and maybe it went even deeper than that.

  If she had the strength to risk finding out.

  If…

  She’d been afraid to accept the truth far too long. The depth of her feelings for Lund. The fact of her disease. The way her world was changing, whether she liked it or not.

  Maybe it was time to accept that change and all it meant, both personally and professionally.

  Maybe she didn’t have a choice.

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  Lund

  Lund didn’t doze off until nearly dawn. He supposed all the lying around in the hospital was to blame. Whatever the cause, he stayed awake, feeling Val’s warmth in his arms, listening to the soft in-and-out of her breath, inhaling the scent of her hair.

  He’d thought he’d loved Kelly, and he supposed he had, at least as much as he could love someone back then. She’d made him feel needed. As if she would crumble if he wasn’t there to keep her whole.

  He’d failed to be there, too many times. And now the only way he could make up for it was to pick up the pieces, find her son, make sure he was safe.

  But Val was different.

  She didn’t need him. Didn’t want to need him. And she might never let herself, regardless of her disease. But he couldn’t help believing they were good together. At least those fleeting moments when fate and they themselves had allowed it.

  So what did that make him?

  Delusional? Hopelessly romantic? Lonely?

  All three.

  But he wasn’t fooling himself. Val was sleeping in his arms, but that didn’t make what they’d found together permanent. It was as fleeting as snow in April, a blizzard one day, nothing but green grass the next. And if he was honest with himself, he knew that’s why he was staying awake. To sear the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her into his memory.

  Because sometimes he needed, too.

  So much, he couldn’t breathe.

  At around sunrise, he closed his eyes and dozed. He felt the sun streaming through the windows, falling warm on his face. He felt the bed dip as Val sat up, untangled herself from his arms, then crawled out of bed. And when he heard water racing through the old pipes of the farmhouse, he forced his eyes open again and pushed back the sheets.

  He was still nude when Val hobbled from the bathroom fully dressed, her hair wrapped in a towel turban. “I was hoping to slip into that shower with you.”

  She smiled. “I’m late as it is.”

  He glanced at her bedside alarm. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning.”

  “And we haven’t found Ethan or our Firebug. I have a lot to do.”

  “You need rest. You have to take care of…” Noticing the warning in her eyes, he trailed off. “I said I wouldn’t do that, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “It won’t happen again.” He crossed the room to her, his body responding, obviously not caring if they had time or not.

  She smiled, watching him. “Can I get a rain check on that?”

  “Always.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her.

  Her turban unwrapped, wet waves cascading to her shoulders. She smelled like shampoo and lotion and most of all, Val, and he scooped in breath after breath, wishing he could bottle this feeling for later.

  He wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing there before he noticed the pair of crutches leaning against the bedroom wall. “That should help.”

  She followed his line of vision. “They’re Grace’s from her sprained ankle a couple years ago. Horse accident.”

  “Do you have an Ace bandage? I could wrap your foot, make it look like a sprained ankle.”

  She shook her head.

  “You have a brace or something?”

  Another shake.

  “People are going to ask.”

  “I think it’s time.”

  “Time? For what?”

  “To quit hiding from reality.”

  “You’re a cop, Val. People might not take the news well.”

  “They might not think I can do the job? They might fire me? Is that what you’re concerned about?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if I can’t do the job, Lund?”

  “You’re chief. It’s not like you’re out on patrol.”

  “No, but we have a small department. What if something bad happened? What if I had to draw my gun, and my hand was numb? Or give chase, and my legs wouldn’t work?”

  “The chances of that—”

  “Are small, I know. But they’re there.”

  “So you’re just going to announce this and let the village board do whatever they want with you?”

  “No. I’m goi
ng to hand in my resignation.”

  “Val, you can’t.”

  “Pete can take over. He knows this town better than I do. He’s prepared. He’s able.”

  “You’re giving up?”

  “I can’t let the town suffer.” She lifted her hands to his shoulders, circling the back of his neck. “Last night forced me to face what I’ve been trying to avoid.”

  Last night.

  Lund was glad she could accept her disease, just as he’d hoped she’d accept their relationship. But he’d never guessed it would lead to this. “If you’re not a cop, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Being a cop was all I ever really wanted.” She lifted her face to him and smiled. “But I’ll figure it out, right?”

  He cupped the back of her head and held her. This was a mistake. No matter how logical her argument, no matter how she seemed to have accepted her condition, it didn’t feel right to him. But it wasn’t his decision to make. He had to remember that. “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll be here to help however I can.”

  Grace

  Grace swirled her fork in the mixture of syrup, butter, and powdered sugar that pooled to the side of her untouched pancakes.

  This had been the worst trip ever.

  Her dad’s reservations at the waterpark had fallen through, and they’d ended up staying at the casino hotel. Since they’d checked in, her dad had spent most of his time gambling, leaving her to swim in the boringly normal pool, eat at the buffet, and watch television in her room all by herself. She supposed it wasn’t so bad, at least she had a break from school, but she really wasn’t getting to know her dad much. And every time she thought about Aunt Val, she wanted more than anything to just go home.

  “Not hungry?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Disappointed about the waterpark?”

  “Not really.”

  “Worried about your aunt?”

  “I guess.”

  “She can take care of herself, you know.”

  Grace gave him a look. “Did she tell you to say that?”

  “No. Why? Does she say that a lot?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Val is good at being responsible.”

  “She’s good at thinking she doesn’t need help. From anybody.”

  He chuckled, a sound that seemed sadder than a normal laugh. “She was always that way.”

  “Is that why you guys broke up?”

  “Val tell you about that?”

  “I overheard you talking the other night.”

  He nodded. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes that I’d change if I could. But sometimes things go too far. Sometimes it gets to the point where you don’t really have choices anymore.”

  Grace wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say or if she was supposed to say anything at all. She went back to her plate, swirling and staring. She liked having a dad. But being around him this much after not knowing him at all before was a little like wearing uncomfortable clothes. She longed to go home, change into her yoga pants, and just be herself.

  Besides, whether Aunt Val admitted it or not, she could use Grace’s help.

  “Sometimes things from the past can haunt you your whole life. And you keep trying to fix them, but nothing works out.”

  Grace understood that he was probably talking about himself, about whatever it was that made him and Aunt Val split up in the first place. But right then, she wasn’t thinking of him. She was remembering the last time Aunt Val had let her really help on one of her investigations.

  It had been before Dixon Hess had been let out of prison. Aunt Val had been looking for anything to keep him behind bars, because she knew what kind of man he really was. Not the nice, harmless way he looked, but the vicious one inside.

  Aunt Val and Grace had spent several different days at the kitchen table, sorting through past cases against Dixon Hess, reading court transcripts, looking for clues.

  It was all there, the stuff he’d done before, the stuff he’d gotten away with, the stuff he’d tried to get away with again.

  It was all there, even if Aunt Val had only let her see a little bit of it.

  It was all there…

  “I don’t feel so well,” she said, laying her fork down in the pool of syrup.

  “Sick to your stomach?”

  “Kinda. I think I want to go lie down.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. If you feel better, maybe we can do something later.”

  Grace felt kind of bad lying. But she needed to check on something. She needed to know. “What will you do? Won’t you be bored?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m down a few dollars at the black jack tables. I’ll go win it back, and if you feel better later, I’ll take you to that outlet mall, see what we can find to buy with my winnings. Sound good?”

  Grace gave him a smile.

  While her dad paid the check, Grace stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. She fumbled it a little in her hands before handing it to him. “I’ll call you when I wake up.”

  He nodded. “Have your key?”

  She slipped her room key out of her pocket and held it up.

  “Good girl.” He gave her an awkward hug. “I hope you feel better.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  She headed for the elevator, him for the casino. As soon as he disappeared into the den of flashing lights and beeping machines, she changed course for the outside door.

  Her dad’s rental car was parked just where they’d left it the day before. She pulled out the key fob she’d swiped from his jacket pocket and with a flick of her thumb, unlocked the door and climbed behind the wheel.

  She pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the road heading south to Lake Loyal. If Aunt Val learned she had stolen another car, she’d flip out. But thanks to her dad’s fascination with gambling, if Grace didn’t find anything, Aunt Val would never have to know.

  And if Grace did find something, maybe she could solve the whole case.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  Val

  Val hobbled down Walnut Street and turned into the Lake Loyal Village Hall. Housed in a one-story brick building nestled between The Yarn Barn and Grampa Henry’s Booze-n-Bait, the entire center of village government was comprised of a conference room and a single administrative office that handled everything from dog licenses to property tax to building permits, the rest of the building’s space devoted to the public library. The village employed one full-time person who took care of everything; Oneida Perkins’s sister Cheyenne.

  Val pushed into the air-conditioned building, the hum of voices from a preschool reading group next door bleeding through thin walls.

  Standing at a filing cabinet, her back to the door, Cheyenne raised a hand and waved. “Hi, Chief. Hurt yourself?”

  Val didn’t bother to ask how she knew it was her without looking. She’d learned long ago that the Perkins sisters abounded with super powers. “You could say that.”

  “Cold for the first twenty-four hours, then alternate cold and heat.”

  “Thanks,” Val said. Even now she was bracing herself for her first encounter with Oneida. There would be more advice, and questions, and plenty of bossing, but that was only part of it. Val couldn’t help wondering if the dispatch goddess would be able to sense what she’d been doing last night, and with whom. “Is Mr. Haselow stopping in today, Cheyenne?”

  “Should be here in about thirty seconds.” She closed the cabinet drawer with a hip bump, and turned a concerned look on Val. “You look horrible. You okay?”

  A loaded question, especially considering the reason Val was here. “I’m fine.”

  “And Grace?”

  “She took a trip to the Dells.”

  “The horses?”

  “Oneida’s friend Jim is taking over the night feeding. Everyone’s fine.”

  Val didn’t remember ever having been happy to see the village president, but when the door opened preci
sely on time, she let out a relieved breath. “Mr. Haselow, I need to talk to you.”

  “Chief Ryker?” A squirmy, nervous little man who’d never liked Val very much, Haselow stepped back and refrained from meeting her eyes, as if he had been speeding on his way in and was afraid she’d give him a ticket.

  “It’s very important.”

  “Um…” he shot a questioning look at Cheyenne.

  “Take the conference room,” she said.

  Nodding, he ducked through the door. Val followed. Once inside, the village president stared at the floor, as if lost without Cheyenne there to tell him what to do.

  Val figured she’d better get straight to it and put both of them out of their misery. She dipped a hand in her purse, fished out the letter she’d written this morning, and held it out to him. “My resignation.”

  He stared at the envelope, but didn’t take it. “Resignation?”

  “I’m resigning my position as police chief.”

  “You can’t.”

  “What do you mean I can’t? I am. Effective immediately. Pete Olson is more than capable of taking over for me.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “No?” She hadn’t seen that response coming, not from him, not in a million years.

  “I’m not accepting it.”

  “You don’t even know my reason.”

  “It won’t make a difference. You wanted this job. You can’t just resign now that we’re in a mess. How will that look?”

  “I’m afraid it might look worse if I stay.”

  He peered down at the letter in her hand as if he was considering taking it, then abruptly shook his head. “You stopped him before. You have to stop him now.”

  “Him?”

  “Dixon Hess.”

  “Hess is in jail.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I got a call from one of the television stations this morning. Not the local news. A cable news network. And do you know what they said?”

  She had a feeling she could guess. “No, what?”

  “They said the boy who was kidnapped from that fire is Dixon Hess’s son.”