Under Fire (25 page)
God, he’d
already
hurt her. He
had
to tell her the truth. About Joaquin, his father, the money, the blackmail, all of it. Today. Joaquin’s deadline was approaching fast. Sooner or later, she’d find out.
And if she hears the whole sordid story from someone else first, she might never forgive me.
Hell, she might not anyway.
already
hurt her. He
had
to tell her the truth. About Joaquin, his father, the money, the blackmail, all of it. Today. Joaquin’s deadline was approaching fast. Sooner or later, she’d find out.
And if she hears the whole sordid story from someone else first, she might never forgive me.
Hell, she might not anyway.
Wal-Mart loomed ahead. He turned off the highway into the parking lot, and eased into a lone space at the end of a row. He hated fighting the crowd for a better spot, and didn’t want his classic beauty dented after she’d just been repaired.
Removing his seat belt, he slipped his new cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and frowned at it, debating whether to call Cori. She might hang up on him, but the truth was he’d rather face rejection than not hear her voice. Pretty pathetic.
A ball of anxiety knotted his stomach as he speed-dialed her cell phone. Hers was now the first number on his list, and he wondered how hard a time the guys would give him when he returned to work. The thought of returning to that easy camaraderie lessened his apprehension as Cori answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Oh. Hey.” Her greeting was brittle, a bit wary.
Damn. “Still mad at me?” Funny, he recalled rolling his eyes not long ago when Six-Pack wheedled his new wife with the same universal guy question that means your dick has been lassoed and hog-tied for life.
“Not anymore.”
“Good. I’m glad, even though I deserve it.” When she didn’t deny it, he pressed on. “Say, I wondered if maybe you had a break coming?”
A pause, and a slow thaw. “What did you have in mind?”
“Lunch? That new diner on the square is supposed to have good salads and burgers.”
“Plying me with food, huh?”
“Will it work?”
“I guess we can find out,” she said, a trace of warmth creeping into her tone. “In forty-five minutes, I have an hour-and-a-half break before I have to be at the hospital. I finished my test in class, but they need someone to fill in this afternoon. Does that sound good?”
“Fantastic, beautiful. I’ll see you soon.”
Zack ended the call and heaved a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t cutting him cold. Feeling lighter, he stepped out of the car and headed into the store. Thirty minutes later, he’d replaced the bulk of his wardrobe and added another healthy chunk of change to his already-stressed credit card. Two weeks ago, spending so much would’ve made him sick. Now he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He had a much more important person than himself to worry about these days.
He loaded the bags into his trunk, then made his way downtown to the quaint family-themed diner with red-checked curtains in the narrow windows. Across the street, the stately old courthouse gracing the center of Sugarland’s town square lent the scene a glimpse of vanishing Americana.
His father’s last words to him, heavy with exhaustion and defeat, rang in his head as he parked and pushed inside.
Nothing lasts, boy. The sooner you face reality, the better off you’ll be.
“Just one?”
He studied the young, cherub-faced waitress. Blond and cheerleader cute, not a day over nineteen if he had his guess. And sporting a dimpled grin while giving him a very interested once-over. She made him feel eighty.
“Two. I’m waiting for someone.”
Her smile dimmed. “Right this way.”
He trailed her to a booth not far from the door, where she set two plastic menus on the table and hurried off. The tantalizing aroma of home-style cooking teased his nose, and his stomach rumbled. The emptiness in his gut reminded him of what a poor job he’d done taking care of himself before Cori. He’d have to start working out again in order to pass the physical-agility test at the team’s next training exercise.
Cori blew through the door in a gust of wind. Zack sucked in a breath, feasting on the sight of her, cheeks rosy from the blustery weather, hair pulled back into a ponytail, little wisps flying around her face. She was dressed more conservatively today in navy blue pants, a cream cable-knit sweater, comfortable shoes, and a navy jacket that hid her knockout figure.
She was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.
Her expression lit when she spotted him, but her pleasure was quickly replaced by wariness as she approached. Zack slid from the booth and rose to greet her, taking both of her hands in his and brushing a kiss across her soft lips. Nuzzled her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Her golden eyes shone suspiciously bright. “Me, too.”
He wrapped her in a bear hug, not giving a particular shit what the other patrons might think. “No, baby. It was my fault.”
She squeezed him tighter. “I had no right to try and push you into telling me personal stuff, especially when it doesn’t affect our relationship.”
“Oh, beautiful, but it does,” he admitted hoarsely. “And what I have to tell you will hurt you way more than it has me.”
She pulled back, looking into his face, full of concern. “All right. I want to hear everything, but I don’t have much time. Let’s enjoy our lunch for now. Tonight, we’ll have the entire evening to work through this.”
He nodded, unable to believe he’d set the wheels in motion, though he didn’t see another choice. In attempting to protect her from the truth, he’d done the opposite and she’d been upset just the same.
Cori shrugged off her jacket as they took their seats across from each other and picked up their menus. The waitress swooped in and took their drink orders, then bustled away with a promise to return in a minute.
“You look great,” he said, eyeing Cori. “Sexy.”
“Oh, sure, grandma shoes and all. You should see me in my killer scrubs. Hand me a bedpan and, ooh, baby, the patients can’t get enough of me.” She grimaced.
“Huh. It’s the fancy doctors I’m worried about. I’d hate to be forced to break some jerk’s surgery hand.” He gave her a fierce mock scowl and she giggled.
“You’d never lay a finger on anyone.” She smiled. “That’s what I love about you.”
Love.
The careless word sucked the common sense from his brain, wrung his heart like a floppy dishrag. Nobody had ever
loved
anything about him. The sentiment had never been part of his world, and it wrapped his soul in sweet light.
The careless word sucked the common sense from his brain, wrung his heart like a floppy dishrag. Nobody had ever
loved
anything about him. The sentiment had never been part of his world, and it wrapped his soul in sweet light.
Before he could form a brilliant reply, the waitress returned to take their orders. Since they’d been more interested in each other than food, they quickly scanned the selections.
“I’ll have the Cobb salad with ranch,” Cori said.
“Bacon cheeseburger with fries for me.”
After the girl left, Cori gave him an arch look. “Buffy was totally checking you out.”
He flushed. “Was not.”
“Was so.”
“Didn’t notice,” he said truthfully.
“Hmm. Good thing.” A teasing light entered her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because the name tag is pinned to her left boob.”
“Oh.”
She laughed, a low, husky sound that curled around his balls and squeezed. “It’s fun to yank your chain, fireboy.” She leaned forward, brimming with mischief. “The waitress isn’t wearing a name tag, though she
was
imagining you as dessert.”
was
imagining you as dessert.”
“You have a mean streak, Ms. Shannon. That’s what I love about
you
.” He paused. “You . . . balance me.”
you
.” He paused. “You . . . balance me.”
There. He let her chew on that, and her obvious pleasure shone on her face.
“What a sweet thing to say.”
“It’s true.”
“You’re too good to me.” Her lips twitched. “You could let
your
mean streak out every now and then, you know. Might be fun.”
your
mean streak out every now and then, you know. Might be fun.”
One part of him agreed, and gave the idea full approval. “Any chance you can get out of your rotation this afternoon?”
“I wish! But hold that thought, handsome. I might be able to leave early.”
Whatever reply he started to make died as he glanced past Cori. A tall man with flowing, shoulder-length blond hair was striding toward their booth with purpose, his cool gaze fixed on Zack. A pretty boy in designer jeans, a dark sweater, and an expensive-looking black leather jacket. Their eyes locked, a clash of crossed swords before battle. Zack’s spine stiffened, his male combative instincts instantly roused and flooding every limb. He knew without being told exactly who was bearing down on them.
Reaching their table, the man threw Zack what could only be described as a smirk before pasting a delighted smile on his smarmy mug and addressing Cori.
“Cori, sweetheart! What a coincidence. I was just going to grab a bite and here you are.” The bastard leaned over and bussed Cori’s cheek. “Mind if I join you?”
Coincidence, my ass.
Zack’s lip curled.
Zack’s lip curled.
Not waiting to hear whether they minded, their uninvited guest shoved himself into the booth beside Zack, leaving him no choice but to move over or make a scene. He gritted his teeth, a slow burn sizzling in his gut like battery acid. The man had usurped his place across from Cori, relegating him to the corner as though he were a nuisance. Just now, he didn’t feel a bit like the guy Cori admired because he supposedly wouldn’t harm a soul. For her sake, he made a silent vow not to plant his fist in the prissy sonofabitch’s face.
“Zack, this is Tony Banning. Tony, this is my boyfriend, Zack Knight. Zack’s a firefighter here in town,” she said, her tone making it clear how proud she was of the fact. She also scooted over in her seat, repositioning herself in front of Zack.
Boyfriend. A spurt of male satisfaction stroked his ego. Unfortunately, Banning killed the buzz by opening his mouth.
“A firefighter,” he mused, sparing a glance at Zack as though he were an interesting bug before returning his attention to Cori. The boyfriend claim he dismissed altogether. “Well, I suppose that’s a worthy profession if you aren’t good at anything else and don’t have an education. Some of us have to be the worker bees, don’t we?”
Goddamned condescending prick. A snarl threatened to erupt from his chest. This guy was no different from the bullies he used to put up with every day as a kid. He itched to rip out Banning’s lungs, but his hands were tied now just as they had been back then.
The temperature in Cori’s voice plunged several degrees. “If a calling to save lives makes us unimportant little ‘worker bees,’ then I guess Zack and I are in good company together.” She gave a short laugh and went on while Banning sputtered. “I always find it amazing how many people with attitudes like yours find themselves in the ER with their heads busted, expecting us to fix the results of their ignorance.”
Banning, who had meant for his slur to be directed only at Zack, scrambled to redeem himself. “My apologies, darling. I didn’t mean to offend! Of course your profession is vital and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. My God, you’ll have nearly as much training as a doctor, unlike certain blue-collar jobs.”
Jobs like Zack’s. The slight ate at his control, pushed him to his limit. He told himself it wasn’t as if he hadn’t turned the other cheek before, on numerous occasions. Told himself nobody’s opinion mattered except Cori’s. That lording his intelligence over a sleaze like Banning was mean-spirited and wrong. That he needn’t stoop to the bastard’s level.
The pep talk didn’t succeed.
“So, Banning,” he interjected, surprised by how level he sounded, “Cori tells me you’re an artist. Where did you study?”
The other man glanced at Zack as though he’d forgotten his presence, but Zack saw it for the mask it was. An affected pose of indifference.
The glint of malice in Banning’s eyes gave the man away. The emotion flashed and vanished quickly, leaving his expression placid when Zack knew he was anything but. His nemesis fought his rage the same as Zack, and they hummed with the barely suppressed desire to tear at each other like a pair of junkyard dogs.
“Tulane,” the man said smoothly.
“Really? Not Memphis College of Art or someplace actually known as an
art
school?”
art
school?”
There. A flicker of uncertainty.
Banning shrugged. “I studied law. Found the field stifling to my creative expression, so I decided to paint instead.”
He’s lying.
“I see. Nothing like a bored, spoiled artist to make the world a better place. What type of paintings?” At the man’s stare, Zack gave him a crocodile smile. Yeah, he was getting warmed up. “Landscape, portraits, still or real life?”
“I see. Nothing like a bored, spoiled artist to make the world a better place. What type of paintings?” At the man’s stare, Zack gave him a crocodile smile. Yeah, he was getting warmed up. “Landscape, portraits, still or real life?”
“Real life,” Banning said, recovering. “People on crowded streets, on beaches, or in markets, my impression of how people fit into their world, or not.”
“So your style is Impressionist, then.”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Why not Expressionist? Or Americana?”
Banning smoothed an imaginary speck of lint off his jacket. “I enjoy the realistic depictions of artists like Monet.”
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