Searching for Risk, page 19
Fuck.
Tiago had rigged the entire house.
And the fire was getting closer.
“Don’t move!” Donovan yelled at Sasha, who had been knocked to the ground during the scuffle. “The whole house is a bomb!”
Tiago scrambled toward the gun and Donovan knew he had only seconds to act.
He grabbed a knife from the block on the floor and lunged at Tiago, plunging the blade into his chest. There was resistance and he leaned into it, then a pop as the knife broke through. Tiago gasped and fell back, his eyes widening in shock as he clawed at the knife sticking out of his chest. His movements slowed, then his hands dropped to his sides, and he exhaled one final time before his eyes glazed over with death.
Donovan stared down at him in disbelief. He had just killed a man.
Again.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The nightmares would have to come later.
He turned to Sasha as fire crawled up his living room wall and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. “We have to go. Now!”
“The vest!”
He swore and grabbed another knife. He wasn’t careful as he sawed through the straps holding it on her because—hell, they were as good as dead anyway if they didn’t get it off before racing through the inferno bearing down on them. The vest fell to the floor with a thunk, and Sasha jumped away from it.
“Matilda!” She spun toward the garage at the back of the house.
Since the fire was coming from the front, he decided it was as good a direction as any. “Spirit! Let’s go!”
The door between the kitchen and garage hung off its hinges. Later, he’d be impressed that Spirit had managed to break through, but now he just jumped over the wreckage and followed Sasha into the garage.
She had Matilda up on her back, the big dog’s front paws wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “Where do we go?”
He spotted his bike and then looked at the back door that led out to his patio and beyond that, a cliff dropping into the Razorrock River. He opened the door, then climbed onto the bike and offered her his helmet.
She followed his gaze and horror bloomed across her features. “Donovan. No.”
The ground shook as the first explosion of what promised to be a firework show ripped through the house.
“Fuck,” Sasha said on a sob and jumped on the back of his bike, pulling on the helmet.
He grabbed Spirit and hoisted her up in front of him, then revved the engine. “I’m so sorry, Sasha. Hang on to me if you can.”
“Just go!”
They careened through the back doorway and raced along the narrow path between the house and the cliff. They made it halfway down the path when a massive explosion shook the ground beneath them, and his house splintered, raining down as deadly shrapnel.
The path gave way beneath the tires.
Sasha shrieked and wrapped her arms around Donovan’s waist, hoping that Matilda’s claws digging into her shoulders would keep the dog on her back as the superheated air whistled past her ears.
They were going to die.
Another jolt shook her as the bike hit a ledge on the side of the cliff, somehow still upright. They bounced like a ball from one rocky ledge to the next before suddenly plunging into the icy river.
Sasha gasped and sucked in a lungful of water. She swam to the surface, gagging as Matilda’s claws dug deeper into her shoulders. Somehow the dog was still clinging to her back like a huge fuzzy book bag.
The poor girl was going to need a lifetime of doggie therapy after this.
She coughed and searched for Donovan. She didn’t see him, but Spirit was there, her little black head bobbing in the water next to the crashed bike, paws paddling frantically.
Sasha went under again. When she surfaced, she ripped off the helmet that kept weighing her down. “Donovan!”
He popped up downstream and coughed hard, spitting up water. His head was bleeding, and his eyes looked dazed, but he was in one piece. She swam over to him.
“Get to shore.” His voice was strangled as he pointed to the far shore, opposite the fire. “Over there.”
They they half-swam, half-bobbed across the river, then crawled up the steep, muddy shoreline and collapsed in the mud. On the ridge overhead, the fire snapped and growled, as if angry they had escaped. Smoke clogged the air, and the sky had deepened to an apocalyptic red.
Sasha extracted Matilda from her back. She was bleeding where the dog’s claws had dug into her shoulders, but she didn’t care.
They were alive.
They were relatively safe down here in the canyon with the cold water feet away.
She took a moment to breathe and hug her dog, then crawled over to Donovan.
His eyes were closed, and blood poured from a gash in his temple. He groaned softly as Spirit worriedly licked at his face.
“Oh, God. Your head. You should’ve worn the helmet, not me!” Sasha probed around the wound. It looked like he’d been hit by a piece of his house when it exploded. “Are you okay?”
He winced. “Should be... asking you... that.”
“I’m not the one bleeding.”
He opened one eye to squint at her.
She shrugged. “Much.”
“Sasha,” he said suddenly, his voice cracking.
She clutched his hand. “Yes, I’m here.”
“I did it. I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I killed.”
“Yes. You did. Well done.” She cringed. That didn’t come out right. “I mean, you had to do it. You were defending us. You did what you had to do.”
“Not him.”
She stared at him for a stunned moment. “You didn’t kill Darcy. Or Chrissy. I know you didn’t.”
“No.” He held her gaze, his eyes filled with pain. His pupils were different sizes, which was not a promising sign. “My dad.”
“Oh.” But she wasn’t surprised, was she? She’d known it when he told her the story of his family over dinner. And the podcast had only confirmed her suspicions. “The blood on your bat and in your carpet. You were protecting your mom, weren’t you?”
He nodded but winced and raised a hand to his temple. “He was going to kill her.”
“You did what you had to do then, too. Nobody in the world would hold you accountable for protecting your mom.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and his eyes rolled back, and his limbs started to jerk.
Oh, God. He was having a seizure. She tried to protect his head from slamming against the rocky shore as best as she could until it passed. When he finally went still, there was little color left in his complexion.
“Donovan. Oh, no. Please.” She cradled him and kissed his cheeks, his nose, his lips. “No. Please. I love you, too. Please, come back!”
chapter twenty-six
Three Months Later
Donovan shuffled through the front doors of the ballroom and instantly spotted his angel across the dance floor, shimmering in a pale silver gown as she laughed with his team. Everyone was there—Zak and Anna, Bella and Poppy, Sawyer and Zelda, Pierce, Ash, Cal, and even Veronica, though she looked like she wanted to bolt.
But Donovan only had eyes for one person. It had been a month since he was released from the hospital, and his doctor had given him tentative permission for sex. And he planned to make the most of tonight.
It was New Year’s Eve, but this ball was more than a celebration to welcome in the next year. It was marking the start of a new era for Redwood Coast Rescue and the entire town of Steam Valley. It was a celebration of survival and renewal.
Donovan crossed the room in measured strides, his cane tapping the floor like a drumbeat. His balance was shit since the surgery to relieve the pressure in his cracked skull, but he took comfort in knowing that Spirit had bounced back from balance issues after her brain surgery. He could do it, too.
When he reached Sasha, he held out a hand. “Angel, may I have this dance?”
Sasha’s smile was as bright as the chandelier overhead. “And speak of the devil,” she said over her shoulder to Zak and Anna. “Here’s mine come to tempt me away.”
He growled low in his throat, pulled her in tight against him, and fastened his lips to hers.
“Oh, get a room, you too,” Anna said playfully.
Donovan glanced over his woman’s shoulder at their group of friends, then focused in on Sasha’s mouth again. “Okay.” He grabbed her hand, and she laughed as he pulled her toward the door.
“Hey, Van!” Ash called after him. “Don’t forget the other thing we have to do tonight.”
“Yeah, give me a couple hours,” he called back.
Zak snorted. “That’s optimistic, pal. You’ve been in the hospital for months. It’ll only take a couple minutes.”
Donovan flipped him the bird.
Sasha giggled all the way up to the room—the same room, she noticed, as their first night together. Her devil never missed a single detail.
As soon as they stepped inside, Donovan dropped his cane and pulled her body flush against his, running his hands along her curves. His fingertips sent a shiver up her spine as he lowered his lips to hers again, exploring her mouth with an urgent need. The heat of his body seemed to envelop her, and she could feel the intensity of his desire, like an electric current running through them both. He cupped her face with both hands and nibbled lightly on her chin, then her neck as his expert fingers worked the laces on the back of her gown.
He wanted her, and he wanted her now.
And, God knew, she wanted him.
But she hesitated and pushed gently against his chest until he pulled back. These past few months had been a terrifying touch-and-go as the doctors worked to mitigate the damage he’d done to his head. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“More than okay.” His eyes crinkled in amusement, and he kissed the tip of her nose as he slid one side of her dress off her shoulder. “I had an appointment this afternoon and got the all-clear for sex. That’s why I was late getting here.”
He slid the other strap off her shoulder, and the dress fell to her waist, her breasts spilling out. He cupped one in his hand, plumping the nipple with the rasp of his thumb. With a male sound of appreciation, he leaned down and licked it, then sucked it into his mouth. The hot suction shot sparks of pleasure directly to her core, and she had to bite her lip in order to keep from moaning out loud.
She had never felt like this with anyone before. His every touch lit her body on fire, and she couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life burning for him. She ran her hand through his hair, feeling the scar of his surgery under her fingers.
God, she almost lost him.
If not for a smokejumper noticing them by the river and calling in a rescue team, she would have. What she thought was just a shrapnel wound had, in fact, been a fractured skull. He’d come close to dying several times that first night. As the fire raged through town, she sat beside him in the ICU of a Sacramento hospital, holding his hand and urging him to fight. The first time his blood pressure crashed, she realized she was an idiot for pushing him away. The second time, she promised she’d never push him away again if he’d just live through the night.
Now, three months later, she had every intention of keeping that promise. She pulled him closer to her chest, moaning softly, encouraging him to suck harder. His possessive grasp tightened on her hips, and he backed her toward the bed, laying her down.
“Do you want my mouth, angel?” As he spoke, his lips moved lower, trailing blazing kisses down her stomach. “Or my fingers?” His hands followed his mouth, caressing her thighs and then stripping off her thong.
She gasped as he nudged her legs apart with his shoulders and dragged his tongue along her slit. Her core ached, and her entire body tensed as the orgasm built to a peak.
Donovan alternated using his tongue and his fingers, teasing her and making her want more but pulling back just as she trembled at the precipice. She moaned, desperate for him to fill her. Fingers, tongue, cock—she didn’t care as long as he stroked the ache inside her. She wrapped her arms around his head, holding him closer. His low chuckle zinged pleasure straight up through her core, and she bucked against his tongue.
Suddenly, he surged up over her, propping himself on his arms as he stared into her eyes. “No, I know what you really want. My cock inside you, pumping until you scream.”
Anticipation made her tremble. “Yes.”
“My naughty angel.” His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging ever so slightly as he leaned in to capture her lips. His kiss devoured her, his tongue exploring with a hunger that had her gasping. She could taste herself on his lips, and it was exhilarating.
Donovan growled low in his throat and broke the kiss, taking his cock in hand. He teased the flared head through her wetness before sinking into her, pressing her into the bed, taking possession of every inch of her skin.
He moved with a slow, steady rhythm, his hands still tangled in her hair as he stared into her eyes. His gaze was so intense, so possessive, and she loved it. The air seemed to stand still between them when they were this close, and she could feel with every cell of her body how much he wanted her.
How much he loved her.
Her back arched, and her legs quivered as the tension built inside her. His hips moved faster, driving her closer to the edge, and a moan escaped her lips as the sensations reached their peak. She hung there, suspended for an endless moment, then the cascade of pleasure took her over.
When she came back, she found him still pumping into her, his movements growing more ragged with each thrust. He tucked his arms under her and pulled her tight against him as if he couldn’t get close enough. His body trembled before finally, with one last thrust, he groaned and released, burying his face in her hair.
Outside, the sun made its lazy descent toward the horizon. No longer blood red, it painted the sky in different shades of magenta and cast soft orange light through the window to spill over their bed. Donovan’s skin glowed against hers, his natural tan contrasting sharply with her pale complexion.
No other man had ever possessed her heart, body, and soul as he did. He still clutched her tightly against him, but he’d shifted to his back so as not to crush her, pulling her on top. His fingertips grazed her shoulder, setting off new little sparks along all of her nerve endings. His heart thumped loudly under her ear, and she smiled as she nuzzled in closer to him and inhaled deeply. He smelled of cedar and rain—such an improvement from hospital antiseptic—and she swore she got a buzz just from breathing him in.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice soft yet firm.
She let out a deep sigh as she melted into his arms. “Yes.”
“I love you, Sasha.”
Love, shockingly bright and all-encompassing, filled her chest and spread warmth throughout her entire body. They had both lost their homes in the fire, but it didn’t matter. His presence was the only thing she needed. Wherever he was had become the place she belonged in the world.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. No hesitation. No worries that she was making a mistake. Donovan Scott may not have been anywhere in her original life plan… but now she couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. And she was willing to risk it all to stay with him. “Let’s get married.”
She felt his lips curve into a smile by her temple. “So marrying the town bad boy is on your checklist now? You want me in a tux for a big June wedding?”
She straddled him and ran her hands up over his tattooed chest. “Fuck the list.”
He laughed, the sound booming through the room. “I’d rather fuck you.”
She jumped off the bed, shying out of his reach. “You can do that again right after we fly to Vegas tonight and get married by Elvis.”
Rolling, he propped himself up on his elbow and watched her pull her dress back on. “Elvis, huh?”
“Or whoever. And wherever. I don’t want to wait. I’m done playing it safe.”
“That sounds perfect.” He slid off the bed and kissed her shoulder before helping her re-lace the dress. “Book the flights.” When he turned her to face him, his smile faded. “There’s just one thing I have to do first.”
“Meet Ash?”
“Yeah.”
“I know. Go get it over with and come back to me.” She hated the sudden sadness in his eyes and cupped his cheek, offering a smile. “I’ll be at the airport waiting to whisk you off to Vegas and make an honest man out of you.”
His grin returned. “Oh, angel. You got your work cut out for you.”
epilogue
From the front seat of Ash’s Tahoe, Donovan stared at the row of brightly painted Victorian homes on a quiet street in San Francisco.
The robin’s egg blue one in the middle was their target.
He rubbed at the back of his neck as tension clamped around his spine. “You’re sure she’s in there?”
“Positive,” Ash said. “She and her husband bought it when his company moved here from New York last summer. You ready for this?”
“No, Goddammit.” But he shoved out of the car and strode across the street. He hesitated at the door, then cursed at himself and lifted a hand to knock.
When she answered, all the air left his lungs. It was like getting bitch-slapped with the past. The girl this woman had once been haunted him in nightmares and hallucinations, and now here she was in the flesh. She looked the same but also so very different—older and more polished, her hair now blond and her belly heavy with pregnancy. But she had the same eyes, the same sad smile.
“Darcy.”
She froze at the sight of him and lifted her face toward the ceiling as if in prayer. But the Darcy he knew had never been the praying type before.
Finally, she stepped back and waved him inside. “Hi, Van.”
His lungs wouldn’t expand, and all he could manage was one strangled question. “Why?”
