Into the Fire (Bridge Book 2) Read online

  She’d married my stepfather when I was in high school. By then I already had one foot out the door, so I’d never bonded much with my new “dad.” She said Phil was the love of her life, but she didn’t light up like she did the rare times I got her to talk about my father. Phil had the personality of a lima bean, but they seemed happy enough. He was loyal, reliable, and seemingly equally as committed to living life in one spot as she was.

  “Oh!” Her voice went up an octave. “You’ll never guess who I saw at the town hall. Phil and I were paying the tax bill, and we ran into Michael Browning. Did you know he’s running for mayor? He’d be our youngest mayor. They say he’s got a real chance at winning too.”

  “Good for him. Listen, I’ve got to run.”

  “You do not,” she admonished. “He asked about you. Wanted to know how you were doing. He’s just as handsome as he was when you were together. I’ll never understand why you two couldn’t make it work.”

  While my mother was busy making meals and keeping house for her new husband, I’d somehow gotten on the radar of Callaway’s reigning prom king, to the disappointment of the many girls who’d been waiting in line for a chance at him.

  Michael Browning was the kind of guy all the girls wanted and all the other guys wanted to be around. Funny, good family, promising future, and a soft spot for girls from the wrong side of town. Just the kind of boy my mom wanted for me. Someone who couldn’t be more different from the rolling stone who’d neither had the time nor the inclination to raise me.

  “We couldn’t make it work for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was because I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in Callaway where he was clearly destined to be.”

  “You talk about it like it’s the worst place on earth. Why you’d rather live in that dirty city with all those people, I’ll never understand. You had a life here.”

  “That’s your life, and I’m happy for you, really. But right now, I’m standing in front of David’s apartment. I need to go in now. He’s waiting for me.” I was still a block away from my boss’s Soho loft, but I had to get the hell off the phone before this conversation took a real turn for the worse. “I’ll text you when I land,” I added.

  “Thank you. You know I’ll worry the whole time.”

  “I know you will, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

  She paused a moment. “Love you, sweetheart,” she said, soft and sweet again, like the sound of a mother putting her baby girl to bed, with the promise that everything was right in the world.

  My irritation melted, and for a second she was my mother again, not a woman who’d given up all her dreams and didn’t understand why I couldn’t give up on mine.

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I slowed in front of my destination, replaying the conversation I was too quick to end. I looked up to where the architecture met the edge of blue-and-gray sky, delaying my entrance while the cool spring air whipped around me. I shook my head, annoyed with my train of thought and the unwanted emotion that kept bubbling to the surface.

  Melody Hawkins and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but she was the only mother I’d ever have. She was a part of me, no matter how far away I ran. I’d long ago stopped trying to catalogue all the reasons why I couldn’t live the life she wanted for me because I couldn’t do it without insulting the life she lived too.

  I didn’t want to do that to her, because as much as we disagreed, judging her for making the most with what she’d been given wasn’t fair. She’d grown up poor in a big family that never had enough time for her. She fell in love with the wrong man and followed him down a path that led to having me, but she’d done the best she could for both of us.

  Still, I’d come a long way from Callaway and didn’t want to look back. I didn’t want to think about the little town she’d raised me in or Michael Browning rising among its ranks. My life moved too fast to go backward. None of that mattered now.

  I breathed in the city air, exhaled with a tired sigh, and went inside. When I approached the reception desk, a young man in a poorly tailored gray suit lifted his gaze to mine.

  “I’m Vanessa Hawkins, here to see David Reilly,” I said with a polite smile.

  “One moment.” He brought the phone to his ear. “A young woman is here to see you, Mr. Reilly. Vanessa Hawkins. Shall I send her up?”

  My stomach tightened as Reilly’s muffled voice came through the receiver. Instinct, maybe. Or my body’s habitual reaction to his tone, even from this distance.

  The young man hung up and nodded toward the elevators. “He’s waiting for you. You can go right up.”

  A few seconds later, I was on my way up. I leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator and let my mind play ping-pong between the plans I was hoping to keep tonight and the much-needed vacation I was going to be enjoying in less than twenty-four hours.

  Despite it being Saturday, Reilly had called in a favor, and I begrudgingly obliged. His dry cleaning was going to be delivered to his townhouse on the Upper East Side. Instead of having me ensure they had his new address, he insisted I pick it up and deliver it myself so he had it for meetings this week.

  David Reilly had challenged the limits of my patience for the last two years in his employ. Some days were better than others, but just when I thought I’d taken enough of his shit, I harnessed the will to endure a little more. Something amazing was on the other side of this, I promised myself daily.

  The elevator opened and I stepped out, the doors silently closing behind me. Suddenly I felt incredibly small and out of place. I muzzled my internal tirade as I catalogued the enviable features of the loft I’d entered. Between the slick dark wood floors, clean modern furnishings, and the few glass walls separating some of the rooms, the space felt positively expansive by New York City standards. Never mind the floating staircase leading to the second floor with more square footage than I wanted to think about. I had no idea how much a place like this would cost, but knowing Reilly and his financial prowess at our firm, it was well within his budget.

  Reilly shuffled down the stairs quickly and approached me where I stood, a few feet beyond the elevator entrance. He was dressed in a dark brown sweater and blue jeans. Soft brown loafers covered his bare feet. His casualness alarmed me. I’d rarely seen him outside of his designer suits. He seemed more relatable maybe, though I couldn’t name a single thing we had in common outside of our humanity.

  He wasn’t bad looking, with sharp features and shrewd gray eyes. He was maybe five feet nine but toned and had enough presence that despite my many frustrations working with him, I wouldn’t dream of crossing him. Few men or women in the world of Wall Street would.

  He reached for the dry cleaning hangers that had been hooked over my sore pinky. “Good,” he said, tossing the plastic encased garments over a nearby chair. Black-and-white prints, a stark modern look that matched the rest of the room.

  I blinked, breaking myself out of my sensory overload, between the loft and this different Reilly in front of me.

  “Place looks great. Once you unpack, of course, it’s going to be really nice.”

  He almost smiled. “You should have seen the townhouse at Sutton Place.”

  If the place he’d shared with his ex was half this luxurious, I wouldn’t have minded standing around and gawking the way I was now. “I’m sure it was beautiful.”

  His stare turned stony in a way that had my stomach tightening up again. Had I said something wrong? He made a nondescript sound, his jaw hardening. “Well, the bitch can have it,” he muttered.

  I nibbled nervously on the inside of my lip. The ink was still drying on his divorce papers, and this was the final stage, it seemed, of his permanent separation from Cheryl. He rarely spoke of her now. For as long as I’d been his personal assistant, their social lives, at least the parts that I’d been exposed to, rarely intersected. She traveled a lot, a common excuse for why she couldn’t attend company events. Another reason too why it was so important
that I did perhaps.

  “I brought coffee.” I twisted his cup out of the tray I held and handed it over. Half caff, nonfat, triple grande mocha. He hadn’t asked for it, but I figured I would bring it just in case.

  He accepted it, never making eye contact. “Little late for coffee.”

  So much for thank you, I retorted silently. Something I did a little too often around him. Maybe he’d treat me with more respect if I demanded it. But the chances were higher that he’d just fire me.

  He took a sip before turning to walk away. “But I guess I have a lot of unpacking to do,” he said as he began ripping the tape off one of the boxes stacked in the middle of the room.

  He cast me a sidelong glance that rang clear as day in my head with, Aren’t you going to help?

  That’s what he wanted. And on any other day, I would have offered without hesitation. If we were at work and something was pressing down on him, I was programmed to do whatever I could to lighten the load. But this was Saturday, goddamnit, and the work week ached in my bones—an ache I had every intention of relieving with a couple martinis and some time with my friends.

  “I guess I’d better leave you to it. I haven’t even packed for the trip yet,” I lied. I was a hundred percent packed, all the way down to funneling my hair products into tiny plastic bottles. The clock couldn’t wind down to my departure hour fast enough. Yet as decadent thoughts of fruity drinks and sunshine crossed my mind, I couldn’t ignore how my anticipation was slowly morphing into guilt and anxiety.

  “Going to be tough without you next week.” Reilly’s clipped tone left no doubt of that. “Will your phone be on?”

  “I’m not sure about phone service there, actually,” I mumbled.

  Another nondescript noise that meant Figure it out, Vanessa sounded between us. I wasn’t sure if my ability to give voice to all the things he never said made me a stellar assistant or bordered on crazy. Either way, I had a feeling I was in for a long night.

  “Do you need any help?” I finally said, hating the words and hating the response I knew was coming even more.

  He jerked his head toward the kitchen and the tall windows that were partially obscured by a few towers of boxes.

  “You can start with those boxes over there.”

  Chapter Two

  VANESSA

  “Ladies get in free.” The guy manning the door of The Bearded Lady nodded toward Eli. “Ten bucks.”

  Eli did little to hide his irritation, rolling his eyes as he shoved a ten at the man who then stamped our hands, gaining us entrance into the already crowded Brooklyn bar.

  “I can’t believe he made me pay to get in here,” Eli said.

  “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay.”

  I pushed past a few clusters of people. Four hours and a fully organized kitchen later, I’d managed to escape Reilly’s clutches. The extended workweek fatigue was even more real now, and I was determined to make the most of these last few hours of downtime before takeoff tomorrow.

  One of the few rituals I maintained was keeping plans on a Saturday night. While they weren’t quite as wild as they’d once been since my friend Maya had retired as my “work hard, play hard” partner in crime months ago, they were still plans that kept me sane. Almost two years at the firm felt more like twelve, and I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t worked long hours, bending my schedule around Reilly’s whims and wants.

  “Just because you dragged me into this meat market doesn’t mean I’m not going to bitch about it, Vanessa.” Eli slid his slender fingers through his jet-black hair, something he habitually did since it was always overgrown. The tips of his bangs were dyed an electric blue, perfectly matching the bright blue band logo on his T-shirt.

  I wedged myself into a place at the bar, hoping to secure enough real estate to flag down a drink. “First round is on me, and we’ll call it even.”

  I tried in vain to get the bartender’s attention. I wasn’t in my usual barhopping attire, so I didn’t have any cleavage to bare to help my cause.

  Beside me, Eli scanned the room. “Have to say, this place has some decent scenery. Ladies night brings the man candy, doesn’t it?”

  I smiled. How quickly the tides had turned. “I thought you hated the meat market.”

  He cocked his head with a sigh. “Depends on the meat.” A mischievous little smirk tilted his lips. “Oh, I see a familiar slice right over there.”

  I followed his gaze across the bar, expecting to see one of Eli’s old flings.

  Decent scenery indeed. Not ten feet away stood Darren Bridge. I shouldn’t have been that excited about seeing a man I barely knew, but my heart began to beat double time. Something about him called to me…

  I wished I could have been blind to what that something was, but the bad boy alarms went off like crazy in my head every time I was around him. I needed a bad boy in my life like I needed a second job. Still, no harm in getting an eyeful.

  He wore a white Henley that did little to obscure the impressive body beneath. The man was a beast in the gym. Every hard curve of his muscled body was enhanced by the fact that he was gorgeous as hell. His face was mostly obscured to me now, so I consoled myself with the rest of the view. His dark hair was trimmed neatly on the sides, but he kept it messy and longer on top. Made a girl want to run her hands right through it. Enviable olive skin wrapped around the corded muscles of his neck and forearms. He turned slightly, baring straight teeth and a dazzling smile as he laughed.

  Was the object of his attention a woman? I wouldn’t have been surprised, but he was talking to another guy, no less ripped or good-looking. As if Darren attracting unnaturally good-looking guys to his circle was as effortless as attracting the women who were eye-fucking him all over the damn bar. Myself included.

  Eli elbowed my rib and shot me a knowing smile.

  “Shut up,” I preempted.

  He laughed. “I didn’t say anything. Your face, though…”

  “He’s bad news, and you know it. He breaks hearts for a living.”

  “Right after he breaks your bed. I bet he fucks like a demon.”

  The mere suggestion had my skin heating uncomfortably. Wouldn’t I like to know…

  I resisted the urge to tell Eli to shut up again before he could continue painting a fantasy of Darren Bridge that I’d already stitched together since meeting him months ago. Maya had warned me then that Darren was a manwhore and to keep my distance if I was smart. Easy enough. Drinks and clubbing could always lead to bad decisions, but even though he’d stuck by my side all night, he’d barely given me a peck on the cheek by the time the night was over.

  Either the rumors were wrong and he was actually a gentleman, or more likely, I wasn’t his type and he was simply being polite by keeping me company that night.

  I turned and leaned against the bar, giving up on getting the attention of the bartender. I needed to stare at something other than Darren’s toned back.

  “Guys like Darren always look great on first glance. It’s a mirage. No one is ever that hot and good in bed.”

  Eli lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of bullshit theory is that?”

  I shrugged. Sometimes I made up rules to make myself feel better about my personal reality. Deep down I knew my theory was bullshit too. Cameron was equally gorgeous, and Maya didn’t have any complaints. Then again, they’d been in love for years. I hadn’t known the pleasure of sleeping with someone I loved for far too long, and if what Maya said about Darren’s reputation was true, he probably hadn’t stopped the whore tour long enough to fall in love with anyone.

  “Miss?”

  I turned to find two dirty martinis placed in front of me, as if by magic.

  “I didn’t order these.”

  “Do you want them? The guy down there put them on his tab.” The once-elusive bartender jerked his thumb in the direction behind him.

  I narrowed my eyes. “What guy?”

  “I think this one, V.” El
i nudged me again, gentler this time.

  Then a warm hand was at my hip, grazing softly across my back as I turned. My breath caught at the sight of Darren. Somehow his presence seemed to suck up all the oxygen around me.

  “Not dirty enough?” He smiled.

  And my heart went flying again.

  “What?” My confused reply got lost in the din of the bar.

  He leaned closer, the cool scent of his cologne wafting over me, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Grey Goose martini, extra dirty. Did you think I forgot?”

  Oh. I registered the slightest disappointment that he wasn’t taunting me with some overly sexual comment. He had remembered my drink of choice, though.

  “Thank you. I mean, you didn’t have to do that.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say, but for some reason, his presence had my thoughts in a total jumble. Probably because the heat of his body was only inches away. Probably because the sexy curve of his smile and the glimmer in his eye had some sort of paralyzing effect on me, the way it probably did on most women.

  Eli offered a little wave, pulling Darren’s attentions away from me. “I’m Eli, in case you forgot.”

  “Good to see you again.” Darren’s touch fell away when he held out his hand, shaking Eli’s. “You guys psyched for this trip or what?”

  “Grand Cayman or bust!” Eli lifted his martini glass with a flourish, clinking it with Darren’s brown beer bottle.

  Eli took a drink and then frowned. A second later, he fished his phone out of his pocket, silenced its ringing, and pressed it to his ear. “Taylor, hang on,” he shouted into the phone. He lifted a finger, letting me know he’d be back.

  Darren moved into the space that Eli had occupied, resting his arm along the bar so it curved behind me. “Do you come here often?”

  I almost choked on my drink. He didn’t just ask me that.

  He shot me a full smile, showing his straight white teeth. “That was a serious question, not a pickup line. I promise.”

  “Sure. Well… I don’t come here often, but that will probably change in a couple of weeks when I move in with Eli. I’m taking over Maya’s lease, so I’ll be in this neighborhood more.”