Page 100 of Risky Passion

And if it was her who left that man to rot in the basement of the orphanage forty years ago, it terrified me what she would do with us now that she had fresh rage and four decades of practice fueling her veins.

CHAPTER 25

Jaxson

Dawn wasbreakingas I turned onto the main street of Risky Shores. The sun painted the eastern horizon in molten gold, and its light danced across the vast ocean like scattered coins. A handful of islands punctuated the view, including Kangaroo Island with its abandoned remains of what was once a luxury resort. That place was where Onyx had proved herself on her first job. She’d found a body in the back section of a dusty bowling alley that everybody else had missed, even the forensics team. I knew then that she was special.

Just like Tory. She was more than special. I watched her in the mirror, caught between wanting to let her sleep and wanting to wake her to chat. And I never wanted to chat. I'd met plenty of brave, tough women in my line of work. Tory was all that and so much more, and I wanted to uncover everything about her.

She carried herself like someone who'd somehow missed seeing the warrior staring back from her reflection. She was kind, funny, and courageous. Most people would have shattered under half the weight she'd shouldered since those assholes shot her plane down. And the way she handled that bullet wound was fascinating. I knew men who would cry like a baby if they’d been shot.

Tory had resisted even mentioning it.

Maybe that was what drew me to her, the way she wore her pain andfear like armor instead of a burden. No self-pity, no victim's stance. Just pure, raw determination.

Her breathtaking smiles cracked through all my carefully constructed walls, making me forget I was just supposed to be protecting her, not falling for her. Even now, with her hair a wild tangle, neck smudged with soot, and shadows haunting her eyes, she was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.

After my last relationship had ended ugly . . . real fucking ugly . . . I'd sworn off girlfriends and made myself a promise: no more partners until I found out what had happened to Charlotte. The cold case of my sister's disappearance had eaten up twenty years of my life, and what wasn't consumed by that went to training K9s and being with my family. We needed each other.

But the pull toward Tory was becoming a tactical problem. Yet something in me wanted to make room for her.

Tory startled awake like she had sensed me watching her, and I snapped my gaze away. Beside me, Whitney was still out cold, mouth slack, breathing with a wet rasp that told me his smoke-damaged lungs were far from good.

"Are we here?" Tory mumbled, rolling her head side to side.

"Almost."

Twenty minutes of rest had barely touched the exhaustion etched around her eyes, but that quiet defiance still burned there, drawing me in like the smell of a barbecue.

I turned onto School Road, passing a tiny church, a sprawling cemetery, and overgrown fields, but thankfully no houses. At the end of the cul-de-sac, a long, low-slung building materialized, but it was the sea of vehicles flooding the grounds that stopped my heart cold. Every instinct screamed at me to turn the cruiser around and get the hell out of there.

"Goddammit! So much for keeping this quiet." I shot Tory a sharp look in the mirror. "You know about this?"

"No." She shuddered away the last wisps of sleep. "I have no idea what this is."

The cruiser bounced over the curb, jolting Whitney awake. "We there?"

"Yeah. Along with half the damn country, it seems."

None of the vehicles were cop cars, though, so that was a good sign.

"Shit." Whitney scrubbed at his stubbled jaw, squinting through the windshield. "Is that an old schoolhouse?"

"Don’t know, but it better be secure." I guided the cruiser into a spot marked 'Reserved for Headmaster,' but the letters were so faded they were barely visible against the weathered wood.

"Ha. Picked it." Whitney smirked. "It is a schoolhouse."

"I just hope there’s a hot shower," Tory mumbled, and my damn mind conjured an image of her standing naked under a tumbling cascade.

"I need food, I'm starving." Whitney groaned, saving me from mental images I should not have.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, and me. Onyx too. It’s a wonder she didn’t start eating the upholstery."

Before I could kill the engine, Whisper and Parker materialized from the front doorway like they'd been keeping vigil. As we stumbled out on stiff legs, Onyx dashed into the bushes.

Whisper raced straight to Tory, and their fierce embrace spoke of deep worry. Even in the pre-dawn light, I caught the glint of tears neither of them bothered to hide.

Parker faltered for a beat as his eyes scanned Whitney and me with the intensity unique to triplets, like he could see injuries the rest of the world might miss. He closed the distance in three strides, pulling me to his chest so hard I felt his heartbeat hammering against mine.

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