Chapter Eleven
Amanda awoke and stretched. It was Thursday, one of the days Greg didn’t go to day care. She thought of the pancake mix she had purchased the other day along with the fresh strawberries. It was going to be her first attempt at making pancakes. The microwavable ones didn’t count.
She dragged a brush through her long hair, tugging at knots with her fingers. After five minutes, she relented and tossed the brush back onto the dresser. She’d get her hair back in order once she washed it later. She straightened out her pink-striped pajama bottoms and made sure her little white tank top covered all the important stuff before heading down the hallway to Greg’s room.
His door was ajar. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach hit her. She pushed it open wider. “Greg?”
She groaned as she ran down the stairs. Chaos ran up to meet her halfway. At least the dog was here. That was a good sign.
“Where’s he at, Chaos?” The dog barked in response. Amanda let out a curse. What did she expect, the dog to act like Lassie and lead her to Greg?
Hell yes, she did.
“C’mon, Chaos. Where’s he at?”
The dog barked and rushed down the steps beside her. At the bottom he circled twice, let out a shrill bark, and scampered to the front door.
She jammed the heel of her hand into her forehead. He was gone. Again.
“He went out the front door?” she asked the dog. Chaos barked once more and spun.
Shit! She was having a freaking conversation with a dog!
Amanda ran into the family room, snatched up the phone, and dialed 911.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“My brother! He’s missing!”
“Okay, ma’am. Calm down. Your brother is missing?”
Didn’t she just say that? “Yes!”
“How long has he been missing for?”
“I don’t know. An hour?”
A silent pause. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-two.”
Another slight pause. “Ma’am, he is an adult. Call us back after—”
“But he’s…he’s…not right!” Amanda slammed the phone down. “Damn it!”
She bit her lip, drawing blood. She tried to think, but her head was spinning.
This was not supposed to be happening. They were supposed to be eating a nice breakfast of pancakes and syrup.
She grabbed the car keys off the hook.
She’d have to find Greg herself.
“Let’s go, boy!”
* * * *
Red, white, and blue lights flashed behind her, illuminating the inside of the car like a bad disco.
She cursed and slammed the steering wheel. Just what she needed.
As she opened the driver’s side window, Max’s head was suddenly filling the window. It was déjà vu.
“Amanda. What the hell are you doing? You ran through a red light. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Well, maybe this is the only way to get police help!”
“What?”
“I called 911, but they wouldn’t help.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Greg. He’s missing.”
“Christ! Again?”
Again? Yes, again. She had failed once again. She’d proved to herself and to Max Bryson that she was irresponsible. Once again.
Clasping both hands tightly on the steering wheel, she bit her lip to keep back the sob that so wanted to escape. “I’m so sorry.” She closed her eyes.
“It’s not me you have to apologize to.” He reached up to his shoulder and got on the radio, giving Greg’s description to his dispatcher. “Now go home. You’ve got to be there if he comes home. Call me if he does. I’ll have the guys out looking for him.”
Max reached into the window and ran his thumb down her cheek, brushing away a stray tear. His voice was low, soft. “He’ll be fine.”
He sounded so convincing.
She didn’t go home. She couldn’t.
There was no way she was going home to sit and worry. After Max had sent her on her way, she drove around town once more. Then parked. Chaos ran circles around her, the border collie herding her down the sidewalk. She checked the Fifth Street Church. Greg wasn’t there.
Out front, she sat down on the bone-jarringly cold stone steps. She shivered uncontrollably. She should have thrown on her jacket. And a pair of shoes. She was running around town in the middle of winter with nothing on but pajamas. What was she thinking?
She wasn’t! That was the problem. But she needed clear thoughts.
Greg was most likely looking for his mother. But he wasn’t at the church. Where would he look next? Think!
The last time Greg saw his mother was at the church.
Amanda straightened. But it wasn’t. Really, the last time Greg saw his mother was…the cemetery! The cemetery was three blocks away.
She ran, mindless of the dog that nipped at her heels. She ran, not even caring that her bare feet pounded mercilessly into the concrete. She ran until she saw the cemetery.
Until she saw them.
Two cruisers, their lights spinning, were parked nose to nose. One had its driver’s door hanging open. Both were empty.
Relief overwhelmed Amanda at the sight of two familiar broad-shouldered men in dark blue patrol jackets as they flanked Greg, talking to him just a few feet within the cemetery gates.
He was safe. Greg was safe. She called out in relief. All three men looked up.
Suddenly she realized she must look silly. Still in her pink pajamas and white tank. Without a jacket in the cold weather. And barefoot! She stopped on the sidewalk, looking at them across the street.
Then Greg spotted Chaos. And the border collie caught sight of Greg. The dog’s ears pricked and he barked. Greg’s smile widened and he automatically patted his leg. Chaos responded. His eyes were only for his master.
It was something Amanda would never forget, burned in her brain forever.
A honk. A squeal. A thud.
A sickening thud.
Sounds Amanda would never want to hear again in her life.
“Chaos!” Frozen in time, horror engulfed her. Her head shook in slow motion. She screamed silently, sounds fighting to escape.
She barely heard a horn blare as she stepped off the curb. Suddenly she was caught up in strong, thick arms. The arms wrapped around her tightly, causing her to fight violently against the restraint. She found her voice and screamed hysterically, “No! No! No! Chaos!”
Max’s face brushed against hers, and he whispered soothing words into her ear. But she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t see him. All she could see was the lifeless, black-and-white dog lying out in the road, his plumed tail still.
Amanda raised her eyes. Marc was holding Greg back. The look on Greg’s face made her want to vomit. She doubled over in Max’s arms, dry heaves racking her body.
She croaked, “Is he okay?” already knowing the answer.
People were gathering. Someone was picking up Chaos and wrapping him with a tan blanket. Then everything faded to black.
* * * *
Amanda felt the light tapping of fingers against her cheek. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She wasn’t ready to deal with what was going on. Not yet. If she kept her eyes shut for a few more minutes…
“Amanda? Amanda, wake up.”
She could feel the unbearable cold of the concrete seeping through the bones of her lower body. She was surrounded by Max’s heat as he squatted, holding her upper body between his legs, supporting her.
He tapped her cheek again.
She felt his hot breath against her ear. “Damn it, Amanda. I know you’ve come to. Open your eyes. Or I’ll get out the smelling salts.”
She complied with a frown. She was lying on the sidewalk in the same spot where she had fainted. His body was blocking the view of the street.
“Greg?”
“Marc will get him over to my parents. My mother will take good care of him.”
Mary Ann. What would Amanda do without her?
“Can you stand now?”
Amanda nodded. “I think so.”
Max hooked his arms under hers and lifted her to her feet. He wrapped a silver Mylar blanket tightly around her. When she tried to peek around him to the street, he grabbed her shoulders, then reached up to lift her chin. He looked down at her as if peering deep into her soul. Amanda folded her arms across her stomach and pressed against the emptiness she felt there.
“Are you okay to drive?” Max asked.
She nodded wordlessly.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not sure about anything right now.”
“Go home and rest until I get there. We’ll take care of Chaos.” He stopped her. “And Amanda?”
Lifeless, she stared at him.
“This time listen. Go home.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and, after giving him a slight nod, began the three-block walk back to the Buick. She tightened the emergency blanket around her shivering body and refused to look back.
MAX WATCHED AMANDA walk away down the street. Her gait was stiff as if in a lot of pain. She was barefoot. In January.
The little fool.
He should have offered her a ride back to the car, but right now he was feeling anything but generous.
Well, she wasn’t the only one hurting. He couldn’t get the picture of Greg out of his mind—how he saw his beloved dog almost killed right in front of his eyes. It shouldn’t have happened like this.
Hell, this shouldn’t have happened at all.
Here Greg was—still looking for his mother because he couldn’t understand her death. And now his companion had been seriously hurt…hell, almost fatally injured. Max didn’t know if Greg even understood the concept of loss, of death.
Hopefully Max’s mother could soothe him, calm him down, and get Greg’s mind off the tragedy that just happened.
Amanda, in her current emotional state, would be no help to her brother right now.
Damn her.
Damn her! How could she be so foolish?
He had told her to go home and wait.
Max crossed the street to where Marc was standing with an arm around a frantic Greg. After Marc settled Greg into the back of his cruiser, his brother had told him that, when Max had been busy with Amanda, Dunn had taken off, code three, lights and sirens, to the nearest animal hospital with Chaos.
With a numb shake of his head, he sent Marc with Greg off to his parent’s house. He sent the driver, who had narrowly missed Amanda, on his way also.
The other driver who hit the poor dog was waiting beside her vehicle, clearly shaken up. He took minimal information from the woman but checked to make sure that she was not injured and that there was no damage to the vehicle. He told her he would write up an incident report. He apologized for all the inconvenience, his voice sounding wooden and hollow.
He went through the motions of doing his duty, but the whole time he felt like he was being stuck with a hot poker in his gut.
The vision of Amanda almost stepping off the curb in front of that car was burned in his brain.
She could have been killed.
He held his hands out in front of him. They were still trembling. He made tight fists to control his weakness, and his mouth twisted grimly.
* * * *
Amanda blinked, trying to clear her head.
She had come straight home like Max told her to. She had drawn the shades to darken the bedroom. Then she had curled up in bed, closing her eyes, trying to keep out the world.
It didn’t help.
The cool washcloth she had placed on her forehead earlier was now warm. She dropped it on the floor beside the bed in disgust. That hadn’t helped either. The pounding in her head wasn’t subsiding. She didn’t think that a whole bottle of aspirin would even alleviate it.
Amanda heard a slight tap on her bedroom door.
She pushed herself up as Max stepped into the room, his unmistakably tense body filling the small space at the foot of her bed. His uniform gave him an air of authority and severity. And his expression was just plain unreadable.
She had expected to see concern, maybe even sadness, in his face. But his expression revealed nothing.
“Greg?”
“Unharmed but devastated.” His words were tired.
“Chaos?” she asked hopefully.
“When I was dealing with you, Dunn showed up and rushed him to the vet. Last I heard he was in critical condition. We’ll know more later after some tests and most likely some surgery.”
She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears.
She was lucky that Chaos hadn’t been killed instantly. And he was still critical; she was sure it could go either way at this point. Amanda hoped for Greg’s sake he didn’t lose his dog so soon after his mother.
“It was stupid. Stupid! I had told you to go home. I told you to go home and wait.” Anger wasn’t even accurate; it was hurt and pain and fury. “But you didn’t. You are a spoiled little brat that thinks you can do whatever you want. You don’t have to listen to anyone. You could have gotten yourself killed. You could have gotten Greg killed, and you certainly got Chaos critically injured.”
“I only wanted to help find Greg.” Her voice trembled.
“When are you going to learn? Are you ever going to be responsible enough to care about anyone but yourself?”
His words hurt. But they were true. She was ashamed and sad. But mostly disappointed in herself.
She desperately fought her own anger that bubbled up. Anger at herself. Anger at the man who judged her from the end of her bed.
She lost the fight.
“I didn’t want to come to this town in the first place. I want my life back!” She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tight. “I miss my life. I miss my friends. Heading out to Starbucks late at night or heading to the beach to work on my tan or hailing a taxi to head downtown to the shopping district to blow my rent. My life is now reduced to shopping at Sears. What happened? How did it get to this? I don’t belong here!”
“Apparently.” The lone word slashed her deeply.
“Get out,” she screamed hysterically, her brain wanting to pound right out of her head. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
Her head pounded as she saw Max close his eyes and his whole body shudder. A mix of emotions crossed his face before he looked at her again. His eyes had softened, and the tightness in his body was gone.
“Amanda…”
No. No. No. She couldn’t take his sympathy right now. If he softened, so would she, and she would only break into a million more pieces.
She needed to be alone right now.
“Just go,” she whispered.
And he did.
MAX RUSHED DOWN the steps, taking two at a time, the items on his bulky duty belt banging into his thighs and hips.
His nostrils flared as he sucked in deep breaths, trying to control his emotions. Hell, just trying to get back into some control at all. As a cop he dealt with these types of incidents practically every day. But this wasn’t just any typical incident. This was Amanda. Watching her almost get hit by that car…
His heart felt as though it had been ripped out of his chest.
With heavy, long strides he walked through the small house and out the front door. He felt disappointment as he slammed the door behind him. Even though he had shut it hard enough to rattle the front windows, it hadn’t given him any satisfaction, any relief in the pit of his stomach. He started for his patrol car but then abruptly turned and walked back to the stoop. He caught himself from going back inside and right back up those steps to her bedroom.
He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to give in.
He tightened his jaw. She needed some time. He needed some time. To process, to collect themselves.
He clenched his fists and began to pace back and forth on the front sidewalk.
He heard a rustle and looked over. Mrs. Myers was on her porch, leaning over the rail. Of course, watching him act like a fool.
“What’s going on, Max?”
What the hell, not now. Max gritted his teeth. “Nothing, Mrs. Myers. Why don’t you go on back inside? It’s a bit chilly out here. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
Mrs. Myers’ fists plunked onto her meaty hips. “There always seems to be some sort of raucous going on over there. That girl has been nothing but trouble since she’s come here. Someone needs to take that boy out of her care.”
Max sighed. “She’s doing the best that she can, Mrs. Myers.”
It was true. She was doing the best she could. She wasn’t perfect. Life wasn’t clean and neat. Shit was always going to happen. But, damn… Today had just ripped him open and turned him inside out.
Marc rolled up in the other patrol car. He slid open the driver’s side window as he pulled into the driveway.
“How’s Greg?”
Marc shook his head, a look of sadness shadowing his features. “Not good. He’s pretty distraught. Ma’s doing what she can.”
Max’s lips pressed together, and he gave his brother a nod. He glanced at his watch.
“I’m going home now to change. I’ll head over there as soon as I can and see what I can do.”
“All right. See you tonight.” Marc slowly drove away, giving Mrs. Myers a slight wave as he did so.
Mrs. Myers turned her attention back to Max. “What’s wrong with the boy?”
“He’s upset. His dog just got struck by a car.”
“Can’t say that’s a shame, that noisy thing.”
Max grunted and hopped into his car before he said something he’d regret.
* * * *
After showering and changing, Max headed over to his parents’ house. Once he was sure that Greg was coping, he stepped out onto the porch to get some badly needed fresh air.
The rumble of tires on the gravel driveway made Max step over to the porch edge to see who was coming. He recognized the gray Buick.
He was determined to head Amanda off. His mother had finally calmed Greg down somewhat, and he didn’t want all that work undone.
He jogged down the steps and over to the car, reaching Amanda just as she was climbing out. Max stepped in front of her, arms crossed and legs shoulder-width apart.
She wasn’t happy to see him. Well, he wasn’t so happy to see her over here so soon either.
“What are you doing here?”
She pushed her sunglasses up enough to brush a frustrated hand over her eyes. He got enough of a glimpse to see they were puffy and red.
“I came to pick up Greg.”
“That’s not such a good idea right now.”
She tried to step around him. “He needs me.”
“If you want to help your brother, you’ll let him spend the night here. My mother will take good care of him.”
She paused. “But—”
“Let my parents distract him tonight, get his mind off everything that happened. My pop can drop him off tomorrow.”
“He’s got day care…” The sight of her biting her lip in indecision was tearing down his wall.
“I’ll have him drop Greg off at day care tomorrow if he’s even up for it.” He reached out, enveloping her hands within his, pulling her close. He dropped his head down, resting his forehead against hers. “Amanda…what happened earlier…not just with Greg and Chaos—between us…”
Amanda stiffened, then jerked away. “Thank your parents for me. And thank you for getting Chaos to the vet.” She climbed back into the Buick. “I think it’s safe to say that we should just stay out of each other’s way.”
She was hurting. He saw that. Well, so was he. But she wasn’t thinking clearly. And he couldn’t just let her go. Not now. Maybe not ever. “You think so, huh?”
She nodded her head, her sunglasses slipping a little. Just enough that he could see her fresh tears. She pushed them back up.
“Well, does it matter that I don’t agree with you?”
He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to pull her out of the car and into his arms. His nostrils flared. No, he was not going to lose her.
“Fuck it!” He reached for her.
AMANDA LOOKED UP, surprised at his outburst. Before she could close the door on him, he was hauling her out of the car by her arms, kicking her car door shut.
She opened her mouth to protest but gasped as he lifted her into his arms and started striding with a determined pace to the nearest barn.
She struggled, pushing against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What I should do every time you’re a pain in my ass.”
He nudged the barn door with his shoulder and dumped her unceremoniously on a nearby stack of broken straw bales. He went back to slide the door closed and latched it.
Amanda pushed herself up to a seated position, struggling as her hands sank into the loose straw.
“Don’t even move from there.”
A shiver ran up her back. Fear? Maybe a little at the unknown, but it wasn’t all fear. No matter how many times they’d butted heads, she still wanted him.
“You really deserve to be thrown over my lap and spanked.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “You’re not going to do that.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
He dropped to his knees beside her, and she quickly started to scramble away.
He grabbed her hair, and the tug on her scalp made her still immediately.
She couldn’t tell if he was mad or frustrated or what.
She licked her dry lips. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.
“Nothing.” He scrubbed a palm over his short hair. “Everything. Jesus.” He reached for her.
“If you’re going to do it, just DO IT and get it over with!”
That made him pause. He blew out a breath. “You got it.”
He tugged her over his lap by the waist of her jeans. “Pull your pants down.”
What? No! He was crazy!
But…
She reached underneath herself and unsnapped her jeans, then worked the zipper down.
Max grabbed both sides and shoved her pants halfway down her thighs. She could feel the cool air on her buttocks. Her pussy clenched, and she struggled to keep from grinding against him.
“Just do it,” she moaned and dropped her head against the straw.
He was rock hard against her hip. His hand spread across her ass. Heat against her cool skin. Goose bumps broke out over her body, tightening her nipples to hard points.
His hand disappeared, and she waited for the sharp sting to come. And she waited. Seconds felt like minutes.
She turned her face a little. He was just staring at her. His face unreadable.
“You want me to spank you, don’t you?” Not even a question.
She turned her head away from him. “No.”
“Little liar.”
“I’m not—”
Whap!
She jerked across his lap, his hard length digging deeper into her hip.
“Ow!” She went to rub away the sting, but his voice stopped her.
“No.”
Whap!
Her other butt cheek stung. She rose up on her arms and turned to look. Both cheeks had a red mark on them.
She looked up at Max in disbelief. His eyes were dark, his nostrils flared.
“You spanked me!”
He grabbed her hips and lifted her enough so he could move behind her. He tugged her jeans a little lower, making some space between her thighs.
“You loved it.”
“No!”
He wrapped an arm under her hips and pulled her ass against him. With his free hand he undid his jeans enough to get his cock out.
“You loved it. You wanted more.”
“No!”
“I can see how wet you are, Amanda. I know you want me inside of you.”
No. But she couldn’t say it out loud. Because it was a lie. She wanted him inside her. Him spanking her surprised her more than hurt. And it made her so wet.
She felt empty, and she needed him to fill her up.
His fingers stroked her pussy, then over the red marks on her ass. Back to her pussy. He dipped them and smoothed the wetness over her pussy lips. He did it again and again. A rhythm that was slowly driving her mad.
His fingers were replaced with the head of his cock. He stroked her with it, rubbing her wetness over himself, teasing her opening with just the tip.
Every time it was right there, just right there, she tried to push back against him, wanting to sink onto his length, but he’d pull back, just far enough for her not to succeed.
She let out a frustrated scream. “Are you going to fuck me?”
“I am.” He leaned over her and nipped at the small of her back. He gripped her hip to hold her still. “Are you ready for me?”
She hissed “yesss” at him.
She felt the head of his cock right there again. At her entrance. Any second now…
He asked, “Are you sure?”
Her answering “Fuck you” morphed into a long “fuuuuuck” as he seated himself deep within her. Her back arched against the pressure of his length bumping her cervix. He was so deep.
He hadn’t moved though. Her muscles squeezed him, feeling how full, how hard he was. The pulse at the base of his cock was strong, beating against her clit.
Why was he not moving?
The longer he stayed still, the greater the need grew for her to start thrusting against him. She wanted to come. She needed to come. She needed to lose her mind in an orgasm to drive out everything else that had happened today.
She just wanted to be in that moment. That second. That millisecond.
She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his fingers white from gripping her hips so hard.
“Max…”
His eyes opened, their gazes met, and he finally gave her what she wanted.
He shoved into her. Pounding her. Over and over. A grunt from her, from him.
There was nothing romantic about it. It was raw and angry. It was what she needed; it was what he gave her.
He didn’t let up, stroke after hard stroke. He was punishing her in his own way, letting out his frustrations with her. She was accepting every thrust, meeting them, taking him as deep as he could go. She was punishing herself.
He was relentless. And she started to cry. She let go of everything inside her. She was using him to chase out the ugliness of the day. He was using her to do the same.
She didn’t want to think about anything else. Just this moment; his desire, her need.
His breathing was ragged; he was close. That realization made her clamp down harder, squeeze him tight.
And then she broke. She cried out as her toes curled and her pussy throbbed around him. A warm gush between her legs. She thought it was him at first, but he was still going. One thrust, another, then he stiffened and cried out, collapsing onto her back. His arms were shaky as he tried to hold his weight off her, but he failed and they both crumpled into a heap on the straw.
She rubbed away the tears on her face and took a deep breath. She wanted him to hold her. To say everything was going to be okay. That Greg would be okay; Chaos would be okay. Life would be perfect.
She rolled away from him and pulled up her pants, keeping her back to him.
”Amanda…”
She found her sunglasses on the barn floor where they had fallen off, and shoved them back on her face, hiding her eyes.
“Amanda!”
Without a word, she slid open the barn door and quickly strode to the car. She was afraid to look toward the farmhouse or back toward the barn.
Every cell in her body was screaming for a meltdown. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do that because of Greg. She didn’t want to fall apart in front of Max. He’d want to rush in and take care of her, save her.
And deep down she wanted that; she really did. But she had to stand on her own two feet first.
She jumped in and locked the doors, relieved when the car started at the first turn of the key.
She shoved it in reverse and stabbed the gas pedal, the tires kicking up stones.
When she looked in her rearview mirror, Max was leaning against the open barn door, watching the dust rising up as she sped away.