Prologue
Six months ago
THE LIQUID FIRE POOLING at the base of Reece Hunnicutt’s spine let loose, and for one glorious instant the welcome burst of light obliterated consciousness. His body quivered with the aftershocks, and he rode the sensations, fighting the inevitable return to awareness.
The first thing he noticed when his mind re-entered the foreign-but-familiar bedroom was his skin tearing under nails digging into his flesh. The woman beneath him still thrashed, her body pulsing around him, so he gave her all that was left of him and collapsed beside her.
“Wow!” she panted. “Remind me to jump your bones sooner the next time we’re on search and recovery.”
Preoccupied by catching his own breath and pulling out of her body before the condom could dislodge, he didn’t fully register her comment, but something about it set off a sour feeling in his stomach. The high from sex always wore off quickly for him, but this was rapid release.
He rolled away from her and swung his feet to the floor. “I need to take care of this.”
Her fingertips played over his spine. “Hurry back.”
In her bathroom, he took care of business and stooped to wash his hands, catching his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t like what he saw.
Sex was the best cure he knew to chase the demons haunting him. It was raw and primitive, a polar opposite to the unwavering control he maintained on a daily basis. He was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—logic and madness. Coming inside a woman’s body was driven by a need that had been ingrained in human DNA since the beginning, and it was one of the few ways he knew to bridge a path back to humanity in the face of tragedy.
Search andrecovery. That last word was what had unsettled him.
But fucking his way into oblivion didn’t solve a damn thing. The effect never lingered long enough to counter the onslaught of emotions that invariably roiled, and the guilt that followed the act made him question whether using a woman’s body as an escape was worth it. It seemed morally questionable, though his partners never complained. Hell, they always seemed to want more, and not just a roll between the sheets. Some were after his money, his name, his soul. Maybe that was why the woman waiting for him right now had an undeniable appeal. They’d been seeing each other for a few months now, and she hadn’t wavered from wanting him simply for sex. She used him, and he used her. They were well matched—while they lasted.
Could there be something more between them? Maybe. At least he wasn’t shutting the door on the question with her, like he usually did. There might be something there to explore, though he was in no rush. It was simply a thought to park at the back of his brain.
“At least you’re not an alcoholic,” he told himself, though that truth brought little comfort.
He pushed the hair off his forehead, flipped off the light, and returned to the bedroom. She hadn’t bothered covering up, and as she lay on the bed, her eyes followed his every move.
Stretching out beside her, he extended his arm, and she snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her index finger traced a path from his sternum to his belly button, dipping in before proceeding downward.
He covered her meandering hand with his own, stopping its progress. “I’m gonna need a minute or sixty.”
“I’m just following the happy trail.” She let out a husky laugh. “Mama wants to play.”
“Let’s just talk for a bit.”
She settled back against him. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“Why are you with search and rescue?”
She raised her head and peered at him. “Is that a serious question?”
“Yeah. Very serious. I’d like to know.”
“Same as you, I imagine. I want to save lives, and I’m an adrenaline junkie. The two work well together.”
“Does the fact that we oftendon’tsave lives ever get to you? Eat at you?”
Hoisting herself up on one elbow, she lowered her light brows. “Does it eat atyou? As your incident commander, I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”
“Yes, it does, but only after the fact. I’m hyperfocused on finding someone alive, and I’m able to lock it out during the mission.”
“Thank God! You’re the best lieutenant I’ve got, and I would hate to have to sit you.” Her tone was light, but a serious undercurrent ran through it.
He pulled her down against him. “You don’t have to worry about that.” What theybothshould have been concerned about was the fact they were sleeping together. Co-worker liaisons were against office policy, and supervisor-subordinate relationships took said trysts to a whole other level of taboo. And for good reason—breakups could cause fallout that affected an entire team. When Chelsea had first come on to him, he’d resisted, reminding her of those rules.
“This is a small community,” she’d argued. “Everyone does it.” She’d ticked off the number of couples who’d ignored policy, and then she’d gone on to assure him she wasn’t looking for anything more than the occasional hookup and that she would be discreet. “I have a lot to lose here,” she’d pointed out. Ignoring his own better judgment, he had finally caved. Fortunately, she had kept her word on both counts. They were still playing with fire, he was still breaking the rules, but the more time passed, the more he let himself be lulled by their easy arrangement.
