NYC Angels Flirting with Danger

chapter TWENTY-FIVE



“I WARNED YOU not to hurt her.”

Almost before Brad could register Jason’s presence in his doorway, a fist connected with his jaw hard enough to send stars shooting across his field of vision.

When he could focus again, he saw his friend shaking his hand, swearing a blue streak. “Damn you, Davis. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Brad’s jaw throbbed, pain coming and going in waves, but it didn’t hold a candle to the agony he’d endured over the last couple of days. “Is that all you’ve got, Jason? Because I’ve beaten myself up a whole lot harder than that.”

Pushing past him, his friend headed for the freezer and laid his hand across the nearest frozen item he could find. “I think I broke my damn hand.”

“There are worse things to break.”

Jason sent him a glare and then frowned. “You look like hell.”

“Yeah? Well, a right hook’ll do that to you.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Brad tested his jaw and winced, before walking over to his friend. “Let me take a look at that hand.”

The door to the freezer slammed shut with enough force to send a gust of cold air rushing past his cheek, but Jason obediently held out his hand.

The purpling metacarpal of the middle finger caught Brad’s attention, and when he pressed near the neck of the bone, his friend hissed a breath in. “God, what the hell did you do to my hand?”

“What did I do to it?” He tried a smile and then stopped as pain radiated through his jaw. “You’re not going to be using this for a while.”

“Too bad, because I’d planned on flipping you off on my way out of town.”

His friend had every reason to be angry. Brad knew he should have called a halt long before things had gone as far as they had, but old habits died hard. He set Jason’s hand on the bar and grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. Peas that Chloe must have bought because his freezer had been empty before she’d arrived. Just like his heart.

“Here. Hold this on it while I get my keys and take you to the hospital.”

By the time Brad came back, Jason had parked his butt on the bar stool. “I can’t ride on your bike with my hand like this. Besides, we’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. My sister won’t talk to anyone, but we all know something’s wrong. Something to do with you.”

She hadn’t told them? Not that he’d expected her to blurt out every unpleasant detail but he’d figured she’d tell her parents he’d treated her badly and that she’d had enough. He’d never actually expected her to leave the city, though. She’d talked about not wanting to go back to Connecticut until the divorce was final. The fact that she’d gone anyway made him wonder how deeply he’d hurt her. Jason’s arrival added to that worry, driving salt into an already open wound.

He wasn’t about to stand here and tell his friend he’d been sleeping with his sister, although Jason had probably already figured it out. Why else would he have let fly with his fists the second he had opened the door? “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was trying to keep her from getting hurt.”

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t do a very good job. She’s barely eating, just stares out the window. Dad thinks it’s because of Travis.” Jason adjusted the impromptu icepack, swearing again. “But I know the real reason.”

Brad swallowed. Yep. Jason knew. “And what’s that?”

“She’s in love. With you. Although I have no idea why.”

Hell. God, no.

This was what he’d been hoping to avoid. Why he’d pulled away. He tried to say something but the words caught in his throat. Stuck there.

Jason frowned, his eyes narrowing as he took a closer look at Brad’s face. “Oh, man. It’s not just her, is it? You love her back, don’t you?”

“No, I …” This was his friend. Someone he trusted. He owed it to him to play it straight. “Yes. But I don’t do long-term relationships, you know that. My folks—”

“Give that garbage a rest, Davis. How long have we been friends?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question.”

Brad thought back. “I don’t know. Twenty years. Maybe more.”

“Exactly. That’s pretty ‘long term,’ if you ask me.” His friend smirked. “How many meals have you eaten at our house? How many ugly pairs of socks has my mom knitted you for Christmas?”

A smile came to his lips. “A lot. I still have most of those socks stuffed in a drawer somewhere.”

“Bingo.”

Something akin to hope blossomed in his chest. Was Jason right? They’d been friends for most of their lives. Jason knew him almost as well as he knew himself.

Could he be right about Chloe?

His history with her went back just about as far. When he’d graduated from medical school, she’d been the one he’d come home to celebrate with. But that wasn’t all. The look of horror on her face the day he’d wrecked his bike had changed something inside him. His chest went tight as comprehension washed through him.

She saved you. Kept you from attempting anything else.

Memory after memory swirled through his head. Chloe in her wedding dress, blushing as she’d danced with him. On the back of his bike as they’d ridden to the hospital, her arms around his waist. Lying on a blanket in the park, her lips parting as she welcomed his kiss. Her gentle touch as she’d traced the lines of his tattoo. Gasping out his name as they’d made love.

He put the pieces of the puzzle together one by one. And the realization that came with it almost brought him to his knees.

He may not have learned how to love from his folks, but he had from his friends.

From Chloe.

He looked across the bar at Jason. “You’re right. I love her.”

“Now you’re talking”

“Let’s take you to get some X-rays. Then I’m going home.” When Jason’s brows drew together, he clarified. “Home to Connecticut.”

“Come out of there, you little bastard.”

Chloe wasn’t sure if she was talking to the weed in front of her or the persistent pain in her heart, but she grabbed the plant with two hands anyway and tugged. It still wouldn’t budge. With her headphones blaring a country tune in her ears, she grunted and repeated the act, only to have the plant slip from her grasp, sending her right onto her backside.

She swore again. Time to pull out the big guns. Reaching behind her, she felt for her gardening shovel. If she couldn’t pull the sucker out, she’d dig it up by the roots. Just like she was going to do with her wayward emotions. Her fingers closed over the handle of the shovel just as something shiny dropped onto the ground next to her hip.

She blinked, letting go of the shovel to push up the brim of her ball cap so she could see what it was.

It was a gold-colored key that looked like it came out of …

Her heart started tripping over itself as she turned and found a pair of boots standing behind her. Black leather. Attached was a familiar set of legs, narrow waist … leather motorcycle jacket.

“Brad.” His name came out as a whisper of sound, the music in her ears all but forgotten. Until his lips moved and she realized she couldn’t hear him.

He frowned, tilted his head and then squatted next to her, plucking one earbud from her ear and then the other. The music fell away.

Picking up the key, he reached for her hand then placed the object in her palm. She stared at it.

“I need your help opening something,” he said.

She pushed air across her vocal cords, but nothing came out. She licked her lips and tried again. “Opening what?”

He rolled his fingers into a fist and pressed it against the left side of his chest.

Surely he couldn’t mean …

“I don’t understand. You wanted me to leave. You all but screamed it.”

She noticed a dark smudge on the left side of his jaw.

“I know it seemed that way, Chloe, and I’m sorry. I had some stuff to work through.”

“About your father?”

“No. About you and me.” He touched the metal object in her palm. “I know I’ve done some stupid things and I’m not sure how to make them right. But no one else will ever hold that key. Only you. I’m asking you to use it.”

She had to know for sure. No more guessing. “Use it on what?”

“Me.”

Something in his voice made her take a closer look at him. “What happened to your face?”

A slow smile curved his mouth. “Would you believe that Cupid uses his fist nowadays instead of arrows?”

Cupid? Did that mean …?

As if he’d read her thoughts, he nodded. “I love you. I wasn’t convinced I had what it takes to make you happy. I’m hoping I’m wrong about that.”

Her fingers closed around the key. “You love me?”

“Yes.”

One word. So very simple. And yet she heard Brad’s heart and soul in it.

“I love you too.”

His hand slid to the back of her neck and drew her toward him, resting his forehead against hers. “God. I didn’t dare hope …”

She put her knees on the ground and twined her arms around his neck. “Neither did I.” She breathed in the musky scent of rich leather and all things Brad.

He leaned down and kissed her, the lightest touch, just like he’d done at the park. It didn’t stay that way for long, though. Soon it had grown and bloomed into something that couldn’t be contained.

When it ended, she was gasping for breath and wanting him to do it all over again. Instead, he stood up and held out his hand. “I asked you to take a victory lap with me once upon a time, and you refused. I’m hoping this time you’ll say yes.”

“Yes,” she breathed. Glancing at the curb, where his motorcycle stood waiting—her helmet resting on the seat—she started to stand up and then paused and held out the key to him. “Could you hold this for a second? I need to do one last thing.”

Turning back to the weed that she’d struggled to pull out, she wrapped her gloved hands around it one last time and pulled with all her might. She felt the root shift and then break free from whatever had been holding it back. Then it was gone. Just like the junk in both of their lives.

She tossed it to the ground then stood with a smile and took the key from him. “I’m ready for that victory lap now, and I’m hoping it will carry us all the way home.”