Authors: Anne Marsh
Mimi considered making him suffer, but there was probably some unwritten lover
’
s code that said she had to cut him slack. Or maybe it was girl code. She slid off her stool, went around the bar, and opened the fridge. “You want a beer, or were you planning on hitting the hard stuff now?”
Gia held up the first present: a truly enormous pair of maternity panties. Someone shrieked as she pretended to model her gift. Rio shuddered and held out a hand.
“Whatever
’
s closest,” he said. “I promised to stay for an hour.”
She slid the beer across the counter to him, then opened a second for Laura, when her friend held out her hand wordlessly. On the other side of the room, Gia got busy with the wrapping paper and bows. Four yellow rompers and one pink dress later, Mimi leaned over the bar.
“Are you and Gia working on Rio Junior or Gia the Second?”
He took a desperate swallow of beer. “We decided to be surprised. Nonna
’
s being optimistic with the dress—she
’
s already decreed that there are more than enough Donovan males. I have strict orders to provide a girl.”
“And if baby has a penis?”
He grinned and tipped his bottle towards Nonna. “Then we have strict instructions to try again.”
“You
’
re going to be busy.”
“Probably.” He leaned back against the bar.
Laura slid off the stool. “One of us has to be brave,” she said. “Wish me luck.”
With a clink of her bottle against Rio
’
s, she strolled off to join the present-opening frenzy. Gia was holding up a set of sheets printed with yellow giraffes and little red fire trucks.
“Someone
’
s thinking ahead,”
Rio said.
“Or conceding to the force that are the Donovan brothers.” Mimi grinned.
“How about you?” he asked, not turning around.
“I
’
m definitely not procreating,” she said, amusement leaking into her voice. “Laura already checked and it
’
s a definite negative.
”
“You
’
d be good at it,” he said, surprising her.
“I
’
m not the most maternal person,” she pointed out.
“You could be.” He shrugged. “If you wanted to be.”
Well. She definitely didn
’
t know what to say to that. “Mack and I—”
“Yeah?”
“We
’
re figuring it out.” Okay, that was quite possibly wishful thinking on her part but she hoped they were. She’d take whatever help the universe could send her way.
Rio
’
s smile broadened. “That
’
s good to hear. Mack
’
s a great guy.”
“So
’
s Gia. A great gal.” Damn. She sucked at this.
But Rio didn
’
t seem to mind. “We
’
re both lucky,” he agreed, eyeing the drink she presses into his hand. “I
’
m on a one-drink limit. Just in case baby comes early.”
“I can fix that.” Grabbing the drink back, she drank half of it for him.
He blinked. “That wasn
’
t the solution I had in mind.”
“That
’
s what friends are for.” She grinned at him.
He smiled back and that was when she spotted Mack coming into Ma
’
s.
Mack managed to look tired, rumpled—and hot as hell. Big body in worn jeans and steel-toes. She didn
’
t think he
’
d come to join the party (the lack of a present being her first clue, and his gender her second), so when he scanned the crowd of women and then came over to her, she wasn
’
t surprised.
“Where
’
s Abbie?” he asked gruffly.
It would have been nice if he
’
d greeted her. They were—temporarily—married.
“Hello to you too.” Wait. She was supposed to be
nice
. She was turning over a new leaf. Convincing Mack that maybe he should take a second chance on them. In the spirit of acting nicer, she reached up and brushed a kiss over his cheek. “Honey.”
He looks briefly amused, but then his eyes darkened. Shit. Whatever had brought him here, it wasn
’
t good.
“I need to find Abbie,” he said. “Where is she?”
Oh, hell.
“She just ducked into the bathroom.”
“Good to know.” Mack turned, clearly prepared to head in there after her.
Rio gently bodychecked him. “What
’
s up?
”
“A call just came in over the radio. The Big Bear Rogues were the hotshot team trapped in the fire that blew over Last Chance Casino.”
“That was over twenty-four hours ago.” The expression on Mack
’
s face said he knew that—and that it didn
’
t matter. Whatever he
’
d come here to say, it wasn
’
t good.
“They had to deploy their shelters,” he continued. “They were cut off. They lost their radio equipment. Shit, I don
’
t know what happened, except that clearly everything went wrong. There was some confusion as to which teams were trapped.”
Rio cursed.
“What happened?”
Mack shook his head. “Most of the team made it into a canyon and deployed their shelters.”
“Most?” Rio asked the question they were both thinking.
“Find Abbie,” Mack said. “Please.”
Mimi looked over at the happy group of present-opening, laughing women. It had to be bad if Mack had come here now. “I
’
ll get her,
” she said.
She didn
’
t want to do this, but someone had to. The bathroom was empty, but there were feet beneath one of the two stalls. “Abbie?”
“
Here.
” The toilet flushed, the door banged, and Abbie came out, all cheerful and babbling about how she already had to pee every hour on the hour, but there was no nausea yet, but she
’
d stacked up on crackers and… Oh. God. Somehow, Mimi had to shut her up and get her back outside to Mack.
Who was going to give Abbie some really, really bad news.
In the end, Mimi didn
’
t have to say much of anything at all. The flow of words stopped as Abbie caught sight of Mimi
’
s face.
Mimi tucked an arm around her. “Mack
’
s here. He has some news about Will
’
s team.”
***
Will was dead.
The coroner—
Christ
, the coroner—needed dental records to be sure, but the wedding ring was right and there was only one hotshot missing from the Big Bear Rogues.
Will.
The bar had emptied out fast. Abbie hadn
’
t been loud, but she
’
d kind of collapsed in on herself and Mimi had marshaled Laura and Katie to take her to the hospital and make some phone calls. They were headed down to the hospital now. The reports from the field were imperfect, and there had been some confusion as to which hotshots were injured—and which were dead. Since Will hadn
’
t called Abbie (or answered any of the dozen texts she
’
d fired off), Mack was pretty damned certain which category Will fell into.
It wasn
’t fair.
He fell into the familiar routine of helping Mimi close up. Different from their Friday nights because this had been a baby shower, but he
’
s wiping down the counter and manning the broom. He suspected they were both on autopilot.
“What if that had been you?” she asked. The words came out sudden, but she
’
d clearly been thinking them over.
“It wasn
’
t.” He stared at her, not knowing what to say.
“Every time you go up,” she said and waved a hand. “It
’
s a possibility, isn
’
t it?”
Of course it was. He ran a hand over his head, looking for the right words. They had so much to work out between them. They didn
’
t need this, too. “There
’
s danger in any job,” he said gruffly.
“You jump out of a plane. Into the middle of forest fires.” She ticked her concerns off on her fingers. “Then you
stay
there, with no easy way out.”
“That
’
s all true.”
It was.
“We could have died at Last Chance.”
“We didn
’
t.”
“No,” she agreed. “Instead, we got married.”
“Or not.”
Right. That was the part that left him feeling gobsmacked, like he
’
d jumped from the plane and was heading down towards his L.Z, right on target, when an unexpected wind hit him. “Mimi—”
“I made a mistake,” she announced and grabbed a paper bag overflowing with pretty bows and crumpled paper. She clearly didn
’
t have the heart to sort through it right now. “I should have told you—the first time you asked—about Eddie. I didn
’t. I don’
t like thinking about it and I
’
ve put that time behind me.”
He wasn
’
t so sure she had.
“I
’
m going to take this out,” she said, gesturing with the bag.
He didn
’
t blame her.
“We could look into it,” she said over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “Together.”
***
She propped the side door open like she always did. The damn thing locked automatically when it swung shut, so she wasn
’
t running the risk of getting locked out. Since Mack was there, her lack of a key wouldn
’
t be insurmountable—he
’
d probably open the front door for her
—but she
’
d feel stupid. That emotion ranked high on her list of things not to repeat. She
’
d already done far too much of that.
She stepped outside, holding the bag carefully away from her legs. Going back inside smelling like day-old bar slop wouldn
’
t up the romance factor any. Fortunately, the dumpster was just behind the bar, tucked away in a concrete block enclosure to keep any roaming wildlife from picnicking on what she threw away. When she looked backwards (because, hey, maybe part of was hoping that Mack would read between the lines of her last comment and come running after her), Mack was propped up against the bar, watching her. She had a feeling that he appreciated the clear line of sight because he still felt like he needed to keep an eye on her.
Too bad, so sad. She popped the latch on the gate and stepped inside. Something swung her around, hard and fast, the bag hitting the ground as her palms slammed into the metal container with a sharp slap. Adrenaline pumped through her because, God, she wasn
’
t
alone
. The barrel of the gun pressed against her forehead was her first clue.
“You
’
re a tough nut to crack,
chica
.” She didn
’
t recognize the rough voice in her ear or the hard arm dragging her up against a male body. It didn
’
t matter. She was an expert on
trouble
and she was ass-deep in it. She froze. She should run, should scream. Turn and knee the man in the balls. Instead, she did nothing, panting shallowly, because she had a gun pointed at her head and apparently that was her breaking point.
“Sol?” She took the not-so-random guess.
“None of your business,” he growled, but she knew she was right. Sol had apparently decided to get hands-on. Since his drive-by attempts hadn
’
t worked, he was here to finish the job personally.
“You shouldn
’
t have testified,” he continued. “So I guess you and I do have business after all. I got friends who are real unhappy about what you had to say to our D.A.”
“That
’
s water under the bridge.” She was afraid to breath too deeply. How easy was it to set a gun off accidentally?
“
Not so much.
” She felt Sol
’
s shrug. “Maybe they re-open the case and it goes better if you
’
re not there to testify. Maybe your death don
’
t matter much at all, except for making me feel better, if you get what I mean.”