Richard

“Stop calling me that,” I muttered, pushing to my feet all on my own. “All I’ve got is some burns on my hand. I’m not crippled.”

But Gunner wrapped his arm around me anyway, supporting my weight as he eased me into the black leather seat.

The feel of his bicep against my back brought me back to the way he’d pulled me out of that fire—how he’d just slung me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and got to work on saving us both. He hadn’t even hesitated. Not for one damn second. Where the hell was this guy back when Jim had been beating the shit out of me? And where had he been since?

Gunner closed my door and I buckled in as he came around to slip into the driver’s seat. He looked over at me, at my bandaged hand. “You tell work you’re not coming in?”

“No,” I spat, folding my arms. “I don’t have a phone. Everything I had went up in fucking flames, remember?”

“You can use mine,” he offered. Before I could give him my answer, he’d dug it out of his pocket and shoved it in my face. An iPhone. Of course it was. “You can always Google the number.”

“I know how smart phones work,” I said, snatching the phone from his hand. I was rewarded with a throb of searing pain from my first-degree burns. This is going to take some getting used to.

“Careful, baby,” Gunner said. “Burns like that can be nasty. Especially on your palm. Too much moving around and you’re gonna make it swell up again.”

“Good thing they prescribed me pain pills.” I swiped my thumb over his touchscreen. “I need to drop off the order before we go home. You have a pharmacy nearby?”

“I do.”

“Great. Let’s stop there.” I hesitated halfway through dialing the number. “You know, work isn’t such a big deal. I can_._._._I dunno, go in and scrub counters, or something. With my good hand. It won’t be a problem.”

My stepbrother snorted. “Did you hit your head? Your apartment burned down, baby. The whole fucking building. You need a day off or two. You need to heal.”

“I need money,” I snapped. “Some of us don’t have it so good, Gunner. Some of us are just barely scraping by. We can’t all afford Mustangs and iPhones.”

“C’mon, Tanya,” Gunner said. “I’ve got a few years on you. You’ll be where I am one day. Hell, maybe you’ll do even better.”

I shook my head. “Whatever.”

“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” he continued, “because you’re not paying one red cent for those meds. I’ve got you covered.”

I groaned. “You can’t be serious. I don’t need any charity.”

For a second, my stepbrother went quiet. Behind his lips, he ran his tongue over his teeth. When he stopped at a red light, he said, “It’s not charity if I owe you.”

I shook my head again and tapped my best friend’s number onto Gunner’s screen.

Chelsea—it’s Tanya. Apartment fire yesterday. Not coming to the club. Let Gino know.

It wasn’t until I was sitting out in the parking lot of the CVS while Gunner ran my prescription inside that I heard back from her.

OMG!!! Saw the news! U ok sweets? L

I texted her back.

Hand is fucked up. Be careful what u say. On my stepbro’s phone.

Her answer was one I’d expected.

Uhhh who??

But I didn’t have time to explain, or even the inclination to. Not over text, anyway. I sent her back a dismissive text reminding her to let Gino know I wouldn’t be in, then promised to call her later once I’d gotten a phone of my own.

Then I deleted all our texts, because the last thing I needed was Gunner asking me more questions about my job—like what kind of club his baby sister was “waitressing” at.

It’s none of his damn business, anyway. We all do what we gotta do to survive. Some of us run. Some of us stay behind and clean up the mess. And then we find some way—any way—to make things work.

Running apparently paid off a hell of a lot more than staying did, though, because when we finally made it to Gunner’s house, I could see that life had been a lot kinder to him than it had been to me. First off, he actually had a house. It was little, sure, but it was nice—a cutesy bungalow that didn’t look at all like I’d have expected. The teal door matched the shutters and the soft, canary yellow of the façade reminded me of that time our family had gone to the Keys. Maybe that’s what the house was supposed to remind Gunner of, too—happier times.

He pulled into the drive and cut the engine. “Home sweet home.”

“Firefighting pays well, huh?” I asked bitterly.

Gunner shrugged. “Well enough. It’s just me, so_._._._”

He got out of the car, but before he could come around to my side, I opened the door and got out on my own. It was a little fuck you to whatever ideas he had about being my big hero. Of course, it didn’t help that I’d told him he was just yesterday.

Gonna have to watch my mouth while I’m on those pain pills.

“I got the door,” Gunner said, bounding ahead of me with his keys in hand. I sighed through my nose, looking up at the swaying trees dotted around his property.

No place I’d ever lived had trees. Not since Jim’s house.

“C’mon in,” he urged me. “I made up the spare room for you already.”

I climbed up onto the stoop. “Thought you said you had a pull-out couch?”

“I do. But my baby sister needs a room of her own, yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Gunner. Stop fucking trying so hard.”

A fight was brewing. One that’d been overdue for a long damn time. But then I noticed something in his front yard. Something I couldn’t take my eyes off of once I’d seen it.

“Holy shit.” I pushed past him. “You got a dog?”

I practically jumped the chain-link gate to get to it. Fuck, that was a handsome creature if I ever saw one. Big, brown eyes. A perfectly soft, silky coat of cocoa-colored fur. Those black patches glimmered in the sun as he bounded toward me, all ears and paws.

“Shit, Tanya!” Gunner hissed, pulling me away from the dog with my back against his front. “Keep back. He’s my guard dog.”

For just a second, the warmth and the hard planes of my stepbrother’s body sent chills racing up my spine. He had to be ripped. Every muscle was evident. Every bulge. Including, I noticed, the one between his legs. The one pressed right up against my ass.

“Knock it off,” I said, wrenching away. Gunner stepped around me to intercept the dog but it just ducked under his arms and came straight for me.

I didn’t worry for a second. Maybe we’d never had one growing up, but I knew a thing or two about dog behavior. And this one was absolute shit at protecting anybody. Or maybe he just knew I was cool.

“Jax!” Gunner grumped when his dog leapt into my arms. “Leave her alone!”

I took some snide satisfaction in knowing that Jax didn’t give two shits about what his owner had to say. That dog was all over me, kissing my face, twirling in circles, and wagging his tail so hard it hurt.