Breaking Protocol (Firehouse Fourteen Book 3) (17 page)

Long minutes went by before his arms closed around her, tight, as if she was a lifeline he couldn't let go. His chest heaved under the force of his ragged breathing, his heart skipping a few beats then pounding under her ear.

"Oh God, CC, what am I going to do? What did I do to make this bastard hate me so much that he'd go after my sister?" Emotion clogged his throat, his words thick, choked. And still she said nothing, just held him, knowing that he wasn't expecting a response. "I don't know how to fight him. I don't know what to do."

Time stilled. Or maybe it sped up, CC wasn't sure. They just stood there, holding onto each other, CC praying that she could offer Dave strength, if nothing else. She wished she had words she could offer him, guarantees she could make that would make things better. But she didn't. All she could do was hold him as his breathing grew harsher under her ear, as emotion shook him as the reality of what was going on sunk in.

All she could do was hold him tight, and hope that he knew she was there for him.

The sun was high, nearly straight above them in the cool October air. The parking lot was busy, cars vying for spots, people milling around. Dave looked around, confused, trying to remember why they were in this particular lot. This wasn't where they had parked.

CC walked ahead of him, glancing back over her shoulder once to smile. He tried to smile back but his lips wouldn't cooperate. Something felt wrong. A man brushed by him, hurrying past. Then he stopped, turned back to Dave.

You shouldn't have left.

The man grinned, his face featureless except for that grin. Something was wrong. The grin was wrong. Cold, twisted, not really a grin at all. But the man had already turned back around, his steps hurried as he approached CC.

Something was wrong.

Dave opened his mouth, tried to call out a warning, but CC didn't hear him. The man was behind her now, his arm raised, like he was waving to someone. Sunlight flashed off metal as he brought his arm down in a wide arc—

Dave bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest as he sucked in huge gulps of air. He looked around, his eyes squinting against the light spilling through the window.

"Fuck."

He swung his legs to the side of the bed then rested his head in his hands. Tremors ran through his body and he closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing. Trying to calm his soaring pulse.

"Fuck."

He was at CC's house, in her bed, because she had insisted he try to get some rest. He had no idea what time it was, no idea how long he had slept, only knew that he felt battered, worn out, exhausted.

But not exhausted enough to prevent dreaming. And he didn't need a shrink to explain that little nightmare. No, he was quite capable of figuring that one out all on his own.

Footsteps padded lightly across the hardwood floors of the hallway, stopping at the door of the room. Dave looked up as CC leaned against the doorframe, her long hair loose around her shoulders, her delicate brows lowered above clear hazel eyes. Her lips were slightly pursed, concern and worry clear on her face.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was low, a little rusty, as if she hadn't spoken in a while.

He nodded, shook his head, finally shrugged then swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. Not from getting sick, not from lack of use, but from too much emotion. He was almost afraid to speak, afraid of what his voice would sound like.

Afraid of embarrassing himself again. One emotional breakdown a year was more than enough, and he had already had that in the hospital earlier this morning.

"Hungover. Beat-up."

One corner of her mouth turned up, not quite a smile. She stayed where she was, though, just leaning against the doorframe, a picture of forced casualness in her sweatpants and baggy t-shirt. Part of him was glad she stayed where she was, giving him enough space to collect himself. Another part wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to feel the comfort and reassurance of her touch.

But he didn't say anything, just ran his hands over his face, as if he could brush away the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours.

The nightmare that had sent him bolting upright from restless sleep.

"You feel up to eating something? Bubby stopped by the store, picked up some cheese and crackers and stuff."

Dave shook his head again. "Not just yet, no. Is he out there?"

"No, he left again. Don't ask where, he didn't say, just said he'd be back tonight." She tried smiling again, with the same success as before. "And to lock the doors, and to have my gun within reach."

She may have meant it as a joke, as a dig against over-protective big brothers, but her words sent a chill through Dave. It was a stark reminder of the seriousness of the situation, of the potential danger facing him from some unknown threat.

A reminder of the brief nightmare.

Dave pushed himself off the bed, looking around for his t-shirt. "CC, I need to leave, I can't stay here."

"What are you talking about?"

There, over on the chair. Neatly folded on top of his jeans. He walked over and grabbed his clothes with still-shaking hands. Dropped them on the floor then bent down to pick them up. "I can't stay here. I should have never dragged you into this, should have never let you talk me into staying here. You've already done enough. I'm not going to be responsible for anything happening to you."

He fumbled with the shirt, trying to get his hands to work, to cooperate. But they wouldn't, they were still shaking as images of CC being attacked played in his mind.

"Must have been some nightmare."

Her softly-spoken words froze him in place, the shirt falling to the floor once more. He swallowed then turned to look at her, wondering what she was talking about, afraid of what he may have said in his sleep. She watched him for a few seconds then shrugged.

"I heard you yell my name, figured you must have been dreaming."

"Yeah. Yeah, dreaming. Sure." And wasn't that just what he needed, on top of everything else? It was bad enough he was beginning to fall apart, he didn't need anyone actually witnessing it. CC had already witnessed enough this morning.

She watched him for another long second then let out a heavy sigh and pushed away from the doorframe. She leaned down and picked his shirt up from the floor, but instead of handing it to him, she tossed it back on the chair.

"If you're going to start worrying about the fact that I know you had a nightmare, don't. If it really bothers you, I'll tell you some of mine and we'll be even."

"CC—"

"And as for everything else, I call bullshit. You didn't drag me into this. In fact, if I recall, I'm the one who dragged you." She stepped closer, pointing her index finger in the direction of his chest, like she was ready to jab him.

"CC—"

This time her finger did jab him, effectively silencing him. "You're not putting me in danger, and you're not responsible if anything happens to me. I can take care of myself, remember?"

"But I am—"

Her finger jabbed him again, twice, right in the middle of his chest. "And if you want to be hard-headed about it, you might want to remember that your truck is still in South Carolina. Are you planning to walk home, Big Guy?"

"Fuck." She was right, he was at her mercy. For now. But that didn't change things, didn't alleviate the sickening knowledge that if anything happened to her, he would be responsible.

He looked down at her upturned face, at the stubbornness and determination lighting her eyes. He brushed her hand away from his chest and cupped her face between his hands. "CC, I don't want anything to happen to you, I can't be responsible for that."

"Nothing is going to happen."

"Like nothing was going to happen to Angie?" Damn his voice for breaking, damn the emotion that clogged his throat.

CC's eyes softened as she stared up at him, warm and understanding. And still stubborn. She placed the palm of her hand over his heart, tried to smile. "Dave, you can't wrap everyone around you in bubble wrap and lock them up, trying to keep them safe. It doesn't work that way. You know that."

"Not everyone. Just the people I care about."

Something flashed in her eyes, something warm and intoxicating, but only briefly. Just long enough for the worry inside him to subside, if only for a minute. She wrapped her hands around his wrists, slowly pushing them away from her face.

"Thank you. I care about you, too. But you have to stop worrying, Dave. We'll get this figured out." She slid her arms around his waist and held him, her head against his chest, her body pressed tightly, trustingly, against him.

He took a deep breath, swallowed again, surprised that his throat no longer felt quite as tight, quite as scratchy. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her. Just held her.

"We'll figure this out together, okay?" Her words were softly spoken, her breath warm against his chest as she placed a kiss over his heart. He looked down at her, saw reassurance and trust in her eyes.

And he suddenly needed more. Needed to feel the reassurance in a more basic way. He lowered his head, his mouth closing over hers, gently at first, hesitant and unsure. But her response was immediate, eager, unleashing something primal within him.

He delved his tongue into her mouth, tasting fiery sweetness. And he needed more. Now.

He grabbed the hem of her shirt and tore it over her head, tossing it somewhere behind her before pushing the sweatpants down her legs, past her hips and thighs. His hand drifted back up her leg, slid between her thighs, his finger stroking her clit. She moaned, thrusting her hips toward him, her hand closing around his wrist, guiding him, showing him where to touch.

She moaned again then reached for the waistband of his briefs, snagging the elastic with her fingers as she pulled them down. Her hand closed over him, squeezing, stroking his hard length from base to tip.

"CC." Her name was nothing more than a growl ripped from his throat. He wanted—needed—now. He walked her toward the bed, not stopping until the backs of her legs hit the mattress and she fell backwards.

Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, her full breasts thrust forward, rising up and down with each harsh breath. Dave grabbed her sweatpants, yanking them off and tossing them to the floor as he stepped out of his briefs. He kicked them away then fell on top of CC, bracing his weight on his hands as his mouth closed over hers once more. Hot, greedy, desperate.

She shifted under him, placing her heels on the mattress, opening her legs for him.

"CC..."

Her hands gripped his ass, the nails biting into his flesh as her teeth nipped at his lip. "Now."

Dave plunged into her, hard, deep, burying himself in her wet heat. He wanted, needed.

Out. In, hard, fast. Thrusting into her, needing to lose himself.

Needing to find himself.

Again, harder, faster.

Her nails raked his skin, her hips thrusting against him, meeting him, matching his rhythm. He clung to her, his mouth hard and demanding, relentless.

His hips thrust against her, plunging into her, over and over. Desperate, seeking. She tightened around him, hot, wet. Her teeth nipped at his lip then she threw her head back, her mouth parted, her eyes closed as her orgasm ripped through her, his name a low moan, called over and over.

And it wasn't enough, would never be enough. He pounded into her, harder, faster, deeper. Desperate still. His balls tightened, almost painfully. Then his own climax tore through him, sharp, primal, filling her.

Losing himself. Finding himself.

His chest constricted, each breath harsh, ragged, as he sank onto her. Her hands roamed the flesh of his back, his ass, her touch softer now. Comforting and reassuring.

Time slowed, the only sounds their mingled breathing, the pounding of their hearts, each echoing the other. Seconds ticked by, marked by each beat, faster, fast, finally slowing.

Dave fought to catch his breath as realization slammed into him.

The realization of how he felt.

The realization of what he wanted.

The realization of how hard he had used her. He pushed up on his hands, his eyes closed, afraid to look at her. "Christ. CC, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

He felt her mouth on his, silencing him, reassuring him. Soft, tender.

"Don't. There's nothing to apologize for." She traced his lips with her fingers and he opened his eyes, looking down at her. Tenderness and understanding filled her eyes. And emotion, deep and undefined, but still filling him with warmth. He lowered his mouth to hers, sweet, gentle. Then he pulled away and shifted, heard her moan as he rolled off of her.

He slid further up the bed, pulling her with him so their legs weren't hanging off the edge. He wrapped his arm around her, tucking her against his side, and just held her.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, knowing that a lifetime with the woman in his arms would never be enough.

Orange streaks spread across the horizon, mixing with the deep purple of twilight as the minutes crept forward. CC shifted on the wicker loveseat, curling her legs underneath her, and stared out at the reflection of colors on the water.

But she wasn't really seeing them, wasn't really aware of anything around her, not consciously. Her mind was on the man in her room, his body relaxed in slumber, seeking the peace he couldn't find while wake.

She took a deep breath then looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, her knuckles white from being clenched so hard. Clenched because even now, hours later, her hands were still shaking.

And she hated herself for it.

Hated herself because they shouldn't be shaking. She shouldn't be worried, shouldn't be mentally berating herself. No, she should be happy, should be smiling, despite everything else that was going on.

Something had happened, something profound and earth-shattering, when Dave had made love to her a few hours ago. Maybe 'made love' was too gentle a term. It was a coupling. A primal, basic coming-together, born of need and desperation, need for reassurance on his part.

A need to comfort, to give that reassurance on her part.

But it had become so much more and she was still trying to deal with the earth-shattering effects. Because she had realized, with horrifying clarity, that she had fallen in love with him.

Not just cared deeply. No, she had already realized that, had no problem with that at all. She liked the Big Guy, really liked him. Liked teasing him, liked drawing out his rare smiles and rare laughter. She had fun with him, enjoyed spending time with him. So yeah, she had no problem with admitting she cared about him.

But falling in love with him? That hadn't been in her plans—not that she really had any plans. And now she had no idea what to do, no idea what she wanted to do.

What the hell did she know about falling in love? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And it terrified her.

"Want some company?"

She looked over to see Bubby step out onto the porch, a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other. He held the glass out to her then took a seat in the overstuffed wicker chair to her left, not bothering to wait for her invitation.

Probably because he knew she'd say no.

She gave him a pointed look then sipped the wine, her gaze drifting back out to the water. Bubby watched her. She could feel his penetrating eyes boring a hole into her but she didn't turn back to look at him. Maybe he'd get the point and realize she wanted to be left alone, that she had too much on her mind right now and wasn't in the mood for company.

"I know that deep, serious look. You're heavy in thought about something, and I don't think it has anything to do with threatening text messages. Want to talk about it?"

"Not really, no."

Bubby actually chuckled, damn him. She gave him a look that let him know, loud and clear, that she wasn't amused. She took another sip of wine then changed the subject.

"What'd you do with Dave's phone?"

"I put it on the kitchen counter."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. What'd you do with it when you took it at the hospital?"

Bubby didn't answer, just looked at her, his face a blank mask. She sighed and looked away, knowing she wouldn't get an answer. Not now, probably not ever.

"He's a nice guy. I like him, despite what's going on right now."

"Hm."

"Hm? That's all you can say?"

"Okay. Hm. I like him, too. Is that better?"

Bubby laughed again. "Tim and I were teasing him last night, telling him we thought it was funny that you had him all tied up in knots. Looks like he's not the only one tied up."

"Last night?" CC frowned, then shook her head in surprise when she realized Bubby must be talking about when the three of them had been hanging out by the fire. Last night, back home. In South Carolina. God, had it really just been last night? So much had happened since then.

And then the rest of his words sunk in and she whirled around to face him, frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means just what you think it means. He's not the only one tied up in knots."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" He watched her, his eyes quiet and intense. She turned away before he could see too much. "Mom and Dad like him, too. You guys make a good couple."

"Hm." And she so didn't want to talk about this. Not now, and certainly not with her older brother. In fact, she didn't want to talk about it at all. With anyone. Not even herself.

"What's the matter, CC? Thought you were immune?"

"And again, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"There's nothing wrong with falling in love, especially not with someone who feels the same way."

"Bubby, you have no idea what you're talking about. And you're seeing things that aren't there."

"Really?" Impatience edged his voice but she refused to look at him. "What I'm seeing is a girl who's so bent on proving herself to the world, who's convinced herself that she doesn't need anyone. A girl who thinks that admitting she wants someone in her life is a weakness. It doesn't work that way, CC."

She whipped her head around and fixed him with an angry glare, afraid to admit his words were too close to the truth. "What the hell do you know about it?"

A shadow passed through his eyes, dark, dangerous. Haunted. He blinked and the shadow was gone, replaced by a calculated coolness that sent a chill through her.

"Enough, CC. I know enough. Be smart for once and listen to me. Don't throw away a chance at being happy by confusing need with weakness, or you'll regret it." Anger flared in his eyes, followed by another haunted shadow that he quickly blinked away. The muscle in his jaw twitched and he finally looked away.

CC said nothing, her mind too tangled to form a coherent sentence. Was her brother talking from experience? She thought so, but she had no idea who he might be talking about. And it didn't matter, because whatever he was talking about didn't concern her. She wasn't trying to prove anything to anybody. And she wasn't confusing need with weakness.

She didn't
need
, period.

She turned away from her brother and looked back out over the water, the sky no longer filled with blazing color. Twilight had settled in and was already giving way to night as the air turned just a little cooler.

CC told herself it had everything to do with the sun going down and nothing to do with Bubby's certain words. No, not his words. His warning.

"I'm going to throw the pizza in the oven. Why don't you go wake sleeping beauty? Then we can talk some more, come up with a plan."

"Sleeping beauty's awake." Dave's quiet voice came from behind her and she jumped, startled, then turned to face him. Had he heard what they were talking about? And even if he did, would he understand?

The lines around his eyes were soft, his face relaxed, as if the sleep had allowed him to release some of his tension and worry. No, he hadn't heard them, of that she was sure.

Bubby stood up, smiling as he looked Dave over. "Well, at least you look a little more human now. Want a beer?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Bubby walked by him, disappearing into the house. Dave glanced over at her for a second then sat in the chair her brother had just left. She watched him, surprised. Told herself she wasn't disappointed that he hadn't sat next to her.

He stretched his legs out then ran his hands through his hair, like he was still trying to wake up. His hair was damp around the edges, his face freshly scrubbed. CC realized he must have washed up, or at least rinsed his face with water.

She let her eyes wander over him, forcing herself to remain detached, to just observe. He was wearing an old gray t-shirt, the material thin from wear, the sleeves tight around his well-defined arms. The black sweatpants were worn as well, slightly faded and loose on him. Her gaze drifted lower, finally resting on his strong bare feet, and she surprised herself by actually grinning. Not because of his feet, but because his outfit matched hers, exactly. Bare feet and all.

She hid her smile behind the wine glass and looked away before he caught her staring. Then she realized what was happening and her smile died. Her heart pounded in her chest, warmth filling her just from watching him. And she thought she could be detached?

Then she realized she had been lying. She could tell herself she didn't need, period, but it was nothing more than a lie. She may not want to need, but she did. And she had no idea what to do about it. No idea what she wanted to do about it.

And she'd take the complications of Dave's anonymous threats a hundred times over the complications of what her heart was telling her.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep so late."

She turned at the sound of Dave's voice, felt the warmth build in her chest again and tried to push it away. "You needed your rest. Sometimes it's best just to listen to your body."

"Maybe. Except now I'll probably be up all night."

"You might surprise yourself." Bubby came back in, two bottles in his hand. He handed one to Dave, then sat in the chair opposite him. "They tried running a trace on the message but no luck. Not that we expected any differently."

"Of course not, that would be too easy. What the hell does this guy do, buy throwaway phones in bulk?" CC had meant the comment sarcastically and was surprised at the look Bubby gave her.

"We're actually looking into that. Do I think we'll find anything? No. But it can't hurt."

"'We'? What do you mean, 'we'?"

"Not 'we' like you're thinking. I'm not involved in any of this, remember? Doesn't mean I can't make a few calls, drop a few suggestions. So yeah, they're looking into that, but I don't expect anything to come of it."

"Then I'm back to just waiting, and hoping one day whoever is doing this responds back." Dave looked down at the bottle in his hand, frowning. "Which means this could go on forever. There hasn't been any rhyme or reason to the texts. No special days, no special times. I've gotten two in one week, then nothing for more than a month. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Wait. For now. I still say he's escalating, and that something is going to happen soon."

"So I'm just supposed to stop everything, keep looking over my shoulder?"

"For now. I know it's not what you want to hear, but I think that's your best option. You can stay here, I know CC won't mind."

Dave glanced over at her then looked back at her brother, shaking her head. "No, I can't stay here. That puts CC at risk. Not to mention that I do have a job. I'm not taking off work, not letting this guy force me into hiding."

CC ignored the stab of disappointment that flashed through her, even though what he said made sense. Even though he had already said he was afraid of putting her in danger. She looked at Dave, then at Bubby.

"He's right, you know. Not about staying here, we can talk about that later. But he can't just shut himself in. He has to go back to work. So do I. You, too, Bubby. There's got to be something better."

Frustration was clear on his face and she knew he didn't like it any better than she did. Any better than Dave did, for that matter. "Well right now, I don't have anything better. Nothing, that is, except a warning to just make damn sure you're aware of what's going on around you."

As far as reassurances went, it sucked. But she couldn't say anything, because he was right. There was nothing else to do, not with what they had so far.

The tinny sound of a timer dinging broke the silence around them. Bubby placed his bottle on the table, banging it just a little too hard, then pushed himself out of the chair. "I'll go get the pizza."

CC watched him leave, torn between offering to help, or leaving him alone. Considering how hard he slammed the bottle against the table, she figured he wanted to be left alone. She raised the wine glass to her mouth and sipped, her eyes resting on Dave. He looked up and their gazes met, heat and awareness flashing between them.

"You can stay here, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"I think you should."

"Do you?" His gaze pierced hers, searching, serious, quiet. She forced herself not to squirm under the scrutiny and wondered again if he had heard them talking earlier, wondered if she had been wrong in thinking he hadn't.

She looked away and licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. She swallowed, then looked back at him. "Yeah, I do."

And God help her, it was the truth. She did want him to stay. Wanted to sleep in his arms each night, wake in his arms each morning, laugh and talk with him each day. Yes, she wanted all of those things. She wanted him.

She just didn't want to
need
him.

Dave took a swallow of beer, watching her over the bottle, his eyes never leaving hers. "Since I have no way of getting home right now, I guess I'm at your mercy. At least until I get some other transportation so I can work on Sunday. Until then, I guess I'm staying."