Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

“JT obviously thought up that story after the opportunity to plant drugs had passed. And Austin knows there are cameras here. He wouldn’t risk planting evidence.”

Trace’s breath whooshed out, the relief so profound he slumped against the wall, bent at the waist, and pressed his hands to his knees. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “I thought I was going back.”

“I keep telling you criminals are criminals because they’re idiots. That’s why I ended up a cop.”

Trace lifted his head and glared at his brother. “You ended up a cop because I kicked your ever-loving ass until I shook the stupid loose.”

That made Zane laugh hard.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Ah, no, you’re right, it’s not,” Zane said easing from the laughter. “But man, you had me scared as shit, bro. It feels good to laugh.”

Trace straightened, but the tension in his gut had wound so tight he was going to lose the bile burning his stomach. “Where’s Avery?”

“Dude, you need to get your little head out of your ass and start thinking with your big head for a change. After what you just put Avery through, I doubt she’s very interested in talking to you. In fact, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t fire you.”

Trace closed his eyes and pressed his back against the wall. God, he couldn’t feel worse.

“Seriously, Trace, sleeping with her? Of all the women you could screw around with, you have to go and mess with Avery? That’s just . . .” Zane’s face pressed into a scowl of deep disapproval. “I don’t even know. It’s like defiling an angel or something.”

“Fuck you.” He lifted his chin to the door. “Get out.”

Zane started that direction. “Oh, and when you finally get your lazy, hedonistic ass dressed, maybe you could head over to the ER when your busy schedule permits.”

Zane paused at the door, looked back at Trace, and explained what had happened with their father.

“What the . . .” Trace pushed off the wall with dread tingling down his spine. “How in the hell?”

“No idea. That must be where I got my B and E skills. He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be fine. Gram had to go to an appointment, so I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing you. And you’ll have to rethink those locks today.”

Before Zane closed the door, Trace yelled, “Could you at least tell me where Avery went?”

“She’s at the ER, watching after Dad until one of us can get there to relieve her. Think you can take care of that? And while you’re there, do the right thing and break it off with Avery. She didn’t sign up for this bullshit.”

The sound of the door latching reached Trace; then the café fell silent. The ramifications of everything that had happened in the last twelve hours lay heavily on his shoulders. But what kept pushing to the forefront was Avery and the intensity of her inner strength. How she could stand in the middle of a room swarming with male cops and not only blatantly challenge them but challenge them while defending him. Then throwing herself under the bus by admitting to sleeping with him? And now she was at the hospital taking care of his father when she had a million other things to do and sure as hell didn’t owe Trace a damn thing.

Zane was right. Avery hadn’t signed up for this, and she deserved so much more. So much better.

“Do the right thing and break it off with Avery . . .”

Zane’s words echoed in his head as he turned for the stairs. “Fuck.”

Trace moved into the bedroom and tried like hell not to look at the bed and all its pristine white sheets tangled from their passion the night before. He felt like his heart had migrated to the pit of his stomach and beat there, one painful throb after another.

“Do the right thing and break it off with Avery . . .”

He pushed into socks and boots, hurried back out front, climbed into his truck, and started for the emergency room, all while worrying what his past had cost Avery today and thinking Zane was right. Trace should break things off with Avery.

FIFTEEN

Avery sat on the edge of George’s gurney in the emergency room with a handful of cards, humming “Silent Night.” She was scraping the bottom of the barrel for songs that would keep George calm.

She pulled the ace of diamonds from her hand and laid it on the six of diamonds on the pile. “Your turn,” she told George. “You need a six or a diamond.”

He put down a ten of spades. “Where’d you say Trace was?”

“Working at my café,” Avery said for at least the twentieth time since she’d arrived. She drew a card from the pile for George and slipped it into his hand of cards. “He would have come, but he was caught in the middle of something. I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can.” She put down a ten of spades. “Your turn. You need a ten or a spade.”