Fan the Flames (32 page)

“The sheriff said the shop is in pretty rough shape,” she told Ian once the last of the visitors had been chased from the room. “He showed me some pictures.” The sight of the shattered display cases and blackened walls had made her chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with her ribs.

Ian rubbed her upper arm, one of the only places on her body that didn't hurt. “What else did Rob have to say?”

“Just that he'd arrested Billy, Zup, and the other guy who was with them.”

“Rucker.”

“That was his name?” When Ian nodded, she continued, “I gave him my statement, but it wasn't like last time, with the same questions over and over. I think it helped that the chief and the other guys had already told him what had happened. Well, that and the fact that we hadn't shot anyone this time.”

Ian let out a short, unamused laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure that helped.”

“Were you surprised he apologized for arresting you?”

“Yeah. That was unexpected. It was good of him, though. It would've been better if he hadn't arrested me at all, but I'll take what I can get.”

“He said he'll put some deputies on my shop, so no one tries to do any looting. That's nice of him, I guess. And they'll keep an eye on the Riders, so no one retaliates.” Sleep was pulling at her, but she didn't want to end the conversation. Swallowing a yawn, she asked, “How are you doing?”

His shoulders flexed, as if checking the status of his injuries. “Back hurts, but I'll live.”

“No, I meant…uh, with the whole Billy thing.” She'd never be a therapist. Asking Ian about his feelings was making her twitchy and uncomfortable.

His eyes left hers, and he glared at the wall for long enough that Rory started to think he wasn't going to answer. “Even after I found out he'd thrown me at Rob, even when he left that glowstick, I still had a soft spot of doubt. A part of me hoped he was just making empty threats, that he cared about me too much to actually hurt me—or you. If he'd come to me, apologized, explained, then maybe I'd have forgiven him. I think I didn't want to give up that connection with the Riders. After this, though… When I was stabilizing your head and neck, keeping your airway open, and you were limp in my hands, that cord holding me to Billy and the Riders just snapped. I'm done. Even if Billy came to me, begging for another chance, told me the best fu—flipping excuse ever created, I'd just kick him in the face. So, in that way it was good. Him planting that bomb…” His jaw flexed. “That was the end. The last soft spot is gone. Billy killed it when he tried to kill you.”

Lifting a hand to the back of his head, she pulled him down to her. When he was close enough, she kissed that tendon that stood in relief on his jawline. He blew out a long, shuddering breath and bowed his head, tucking his face in the curve of her neck. They stayed like that until Rory lost the battle with sleep.

“It was too much, anyway,” Lou declared, wiping the already clean counter at The Coffee Spot. “I mean, a fireman
and
a motorcycle-riding, leather-wearing badass? It's a dangerous excess of hotness. Our heads could've imploded from hotness overload.”

Rory blinked at her. “First, I don't think the laws of science really work that way. Second, he's keeping the motorcycle. And the leather.”

“Be careful, then.” With a mock-concerned frown, Lou rinsed the cloth in the sink. “You're in danger of hotness-induced head implosion every time you're around Ian Walsh.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Rory said dryly, unable to quash her grin. The bells on the front door jangled.

“And speak of the devil…” Lou grinned at someone behind her. “Hey, Beauty. How are the battle wounds?”

Ian gave his usual shrug before sliding a hand across Rory's back, making her shiver. “Ready?”

“For what?” Lou's eyes shone with open curiosity.

“Levi's.” Try as she might, Rory couldn't hold back a grimace. She was dreading the meal, but Ian was right. It was better to deal with the curious citizens of Simpson all in one go—especially now—rather than being swarmed at the grocery store or having people run into the road and wave her down as she was trying to drive to Ian's house.

“You don't look too happy about that,” Lou observed.

“I'm not.” With a sigh, she slid off the stool, still moving carefully, although her ribs were not nearly as sore as they'd been a week ago. “At least I get good food during the inquisition.”

Lou laughed. As Rory and Ian made their way to the door, she called after them, “Watch out for implosions!”

Ian frowned at her, but Rory just rolled her eyes. When they were in the Bronco, Ian said, “What'd she mean?”

“No idea.” Hoping he'd think her blush was due to the recent cold snap, she shrugged. “It's Lou.”

He eyed her closely, but then seemed to accept her nonanswer. “How'd things go today at the shop?” A doctor's appointment in Denver to recheck his injuries had kept him away all day.

“The insurance company investigator was there.”

“Yeah?” He exited the lot carefully, since the melted snow had refrozen, turning the pavement into an ice rink. Rory noticed he still kept a few inches of space between his still-tender back and the seat. “How'd that go?”

“It was surprisingly painless.” She'd been dreading dealing with the insurance company, but everything had gone smoothly so far. “There doesn't seem to be any structural damage, and I've been able to salvage some of my inventory, too. Look.” She pulled the SwissMiniGun from her pocket. “I even fired it after they left. It's undamaged.”

“Great,” he said dryly, glancing at the pistol with amusement. “The tiny gun still works.”

With a mock sigh, she tucked it back in her pocket. “You don't have any appreciation for this marvel of engineering.”

“Nope,” he responded unapologetically. “I still have another week at least before the doctor will clear me to go back to work, and the guys just started their days off.” As he swung onto Second Street, the Bronco's back end kept turning, slipping sideways on the ice. Rory's hands clenched on her thighs, but Ian just eased out of the skid, straightening the vehicle as if nothing had happened. “We'll be able to lend a hand at the shop.”

“You don't have to do that,” she protested, but he just ignored her objections, as usual.

“I want to help.”

“Fine.” She threw her hands up in the air. “But you know what happened last time you guys all helped in the shop.”

Lifting one hand from the steering wheel, he found the tight muscles connecting her neck to her shoulder and started massaging. “Yeah, well, if there are going to be explosions, I want to be there.”

Despite her instinct to melt under his ministrations, she shot him a sideways look. Was he being literal or suggestive? His fingers digging into her muscles felt too good, so she quit analyzing his words and just enjoyed the massage.

When they pulled up to the curb a block from Levi's, Rory almost groaned in disappointment. It seemed an unfair trade—an end to her neck rub for the stares of gossipy Simpsonites. She stayed in her seat until Ian circled the SUV and opened her door.

“Out, Ror. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave.”

“Fine.”

As they walked toward Levi's, Rory noted the vehicles lining both sides of the street and stifled a sigh. It appeared that everyone and their grandma was eating at Levi's tonight. When Ian caught her hand and laced their fingers together, however, her dread of the upcoming evening eased.

“Ready?” he asked, releasing her hand so he could open the door to Levi's and gesture Rory through the entrance.

Her answer was an unintelligible grumble, but she braced herself and walked into the restaurant.

“Surprise!” the crowd filling Levi's shouted.

Rory took a startled step back, bumping into the wall of Ian behind her, and started to reach for the gun in her pocket.

Ian's fingers closed around her searching hand. “No shooting your party guests,” he said quietly, close to her ear, an audible smile in his voice. “Happy Birthday, Ror.”

All she could do was stare at the smiling crowd and blink. She'd actually forgotten it was her birthday. They'd always been subdued events growing up, and she'd never even had a friend to invite over to celebrate, much less a party…until now. “How'd you even know it was my birthday?” she asked Ian, keeping her back pressed against his front. She knew if she took a step into the crowd, she'd be swarmed.

“Chief,” Ian said, loudly enough that Early stepped forward, his cheerful face wreathed in smiles. “He got it from your paperwork.”

“That seems…unethical,” she muttered, and felt Ian's chest vibrate with a laugh. Forcing a smile, she took a deep breath and stepped toward the waiting horde. Just as she'd feared, the crowd swallowed her whole.

* * *

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Smirking, Ian looked down at her as he unlocked the side door of his house. “How was your first party?”

“How'd you know it was my first party?” she asked, more to avoid answering his question than anything. She couldn't really answer, because a dozen conflicting emotions twisted in her gut, and she hadn't had a chance to sort through them yet.

“The way you reached for your gun when everyone yelled, ‘Surprise!' was kind of a clue.”

“I was startled,” she said defensively, ducking under the arm he was using to hold open the door.

He snorted a laugh as he followed her. “Besides that first moment, what'd you think of the rest?”

“It was…more okay than I expected.” She stripped off her boots and coat before walking over to lean against the counter. “I think I had fun at parts.”

“Parts?”

“Like when Belly juggled steak knives. That was…oddly fascinating.”

“It was.”

“Once everyone stopped focusing on me and just talked in small groups, it was better. Just hanging out with the guys from the station, and Lou when she got there, that part was easy. The whole singing at me thing, though…that was unpleasant.”

He muffled his laugh with a cough.

“And the presents.” Her huge pile of gifts was still packed in the Bronco. “I have to admit that I liked getting presents.”

“I got you something, too.” Grabbing her hand, Ian pulled her toward the living room.

The idea of another present was exciting enough to muffle the unease of entering the room of glass walls. “You didn't have to.”

He gave her a look. “I know. I wanted to. Here.” Stopping in the middle of the living room, he swept his arm in a wide gesture. “Happy Birthday.”

It took her a second to realize what was different, but when she did, Rory started to smile. “You covered the windows.”

“Steel-core shutters.” He grinned proudly and grabbed her hand again. This time, he pulled her up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Here, too.”

The bedroom windows were shuttered, as well. Rory ignored the fact that a bullet could easily pierce the drywall surrounding the protected windows and focused on the generosity of his gift.

“I love them.” Fighting down a surge of awkwardness, she took a step closer so she could give Ian a quick hug. She carefully avoided pressing on his still-healing back. “Thank you.”

When she tried to step away from him, his arms locked around her and kept her close. “You're welcome. No more closet sleeping for you.”

Tilting her chin so she could meet his eyes, she raised an eyebrow. “Ulterior motives?”

“Definitely.” His voice was a raspy growl that made her shiver. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers. Just that light contact made her heart hiccup. When he deepened the kiss, she pressed closer, looping her arms around his neck. Her fingers burrowed into the silky short strands of his hair, giving gentle tugs and lightly scratching his scalp.

Being with him like this made her feel so secure, so safe, she wouldn't even have needed the shutters covering the windows. Making a pleased sound against her mouth, he cupped his hands under her butt and lifted her. Startled, she wrapped her legs around his waist to help keep her aloft and pulled her lips from his. Ian burrowed his face into the side of her neck, dropping light kisses and leaving a trail of goose bumps.

Rory didn't even realize he was carrying her to the bed until her back touched the comforter. Her eyes went wide as he followed her down, pressing her to the mattress with his weight.

He kissed her, and her body immediately woke, heat flaring under his touch. All her self-consciousness evaporated, leaving only desire and so much love her heart ached with it. Her hands explored with more freedom than ever before, although she avoided his still-sensitive back.

He kissed her carefully—too carefully. Rory clutched his head, trying to pull his lips harder against hers, but he kept his touch gentle. With a low growl of frustration, Rory nipped his lower lip.

Guilt set in when he pulled back, looking startled.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“What was that for?” he asked, although there was a humorous glint in his eyes.

“I just wanted you to be a little”—her gaze darted around before finally settling on his chin—“um, rougher.”

His body jolted slightly, and his amusement morphed into heat. “I want to be careful with your ribs.”

She felt her breaths come quickly, her arousal feeding off his. “I'm fine. My ribs are fine. I don't need careful.” Although she might feel it in the morning, right now she needed anything but gentle. She wanted him wild and uncontrolled, so caught up in his passion for her that he was oblivious to anything else in the world. Pulling his head down toward her, she caught his lip in her teeth again, tugging at it teasingly.

It was his turn to growl. His mouth found hers, and she instantly knew that any form of “careful” had disappeared. They kissed each other as if the world was ending and all that existed was the two of them. With a groan of relief and pleasure, she lost herself in that passion, where injuries and angry MC members and meth dealers didn't exist.

Her hands slid under his shirt, tracing his abs upward until she could lightly score her nails over his pecs. He pulled away just long enough to yank his shirt over his head and toss it away before returning his lips to hers.

They scrambled out of the rest of their clothes. In the heat and passion, Rory forgot to be self-conscious, forgot everything except the man above her. His mouth and hands explored her body, finding the places that made her shudder and cry out his name. Unable to take another second of pleasure, she rolled them both over so she was on top, forgetting about his still-tender back until he hissed a breath through his teeth. Quickly turning them so they were on their sides, facing each other, she started an exploration of her own. She loved finding his ticklish spots, the sensitive places, the ones that made him groan and shiver under her touch.

Once they were both shuddering and sweating with need, he rolled on a condom and slid into her, and they fit like matching puzzle pieces. Rory locked her legs around his hips, unable to tear her gaze from his. His face was even more beautiful to her now than the first day they had met. He was Ian, and he was perfect.

“I love you,” she blurted, unable to hold in the words for a second longer.

His face lit with happiness, and he lowered his head to touch his lips to hers. They continued to kiss, and pleasure flowed through Rory, the physical peak driven even higher by the surge of love and comfort and peace being with Ian gave her.

As they caught their breath afterward, neither one letting go, despite healing ribs and burns and shrapnel wounds, Ian kissed that favorite spot beneath her ear.

“This was a good birthday,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Good.” His breath warmed her neck and all the cold spots left inside her. “I love you too, Ror.”

That new feeling of security and contentment flowed through her again. “Could you open the shutters?”

He went still. “Are you sure?”

Surprisingly, she was. “I think I'd like to see the stars.”

“You're amazing, Rory.” Giving her a hard kiss, he rolled out of bed. “Let's look at the stars, then.”

* * *

Rory woke early, her body accustomed to being on chicken duty, a chore taken over by Steve as his birthday present to her.

Turning onto her side, she could barely make out Ian's sleeping form. His breathing was deep and even, lulling her into a half doze. She smiled drowsily, thinking of the night before, the maybe-fun party, and the definitely fun lovemaking session afterward. Her stomach warmed with a slow burn at the memory, and she reached toward his dim shape. Her hand found his arm first, and his breathing immediately changed.