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  “Something I’ve been wondering.” David lowered the pike pole, sticking the pointed end in the dirt near his foot. “Do we get to pick the month we want?”

  “I suppose if you have a favorite month, you could. I’m flexible. I’d planned to try to pair most of you with your birthday months.”

  David shook his head. “My birthday isn’t until December. I’d rather pick if it’s all the same to you.”

  “What? You don’t want to be some woman’s Christmas present?”

  “Not a bad idea, but see, thing is, that’s only one month I’d be hanging on a woman’s wall.”

  “And if you get one of the earlier months, that’s longer for the women to remember you through the year,” Rayne concluded with a knowing nod. “Gives you a better chance at getting the bootie. Yeah, I saw that episode of Rescue Me, too. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’re great, sweetheart.” He winked at her and moved into place without instruction, changing to the next position they'd discussed when they first arrived. He stood now, pike pole poised to puncture a wall half charred from the fire that had eaten away much of the guts of the house the very day Hurricane Emilio left its path of destruction.

  He'd been here that day, part of the responding crew who had battled the raging flames, part of the team who had pulled one of their own quite literally from the depths of hell. She'd hesitated to bring him here. Despite the fact that the location was perfect for the calendar in a number of ways, she'd been sensitive to the knowledge that the memories of that day still preyed on all the firefighters of B shift.

  Rayne wasn't clear on the full details, but Max had talked to her shortly after the fire. He'd told her of the flames that erupted in the back room of the house, some kind of work room and storage for the artist who owned the place. It was in that room that they'd nearly lost former B shift Lieutenant Tripp Barrett after a heavy shelf had fallen on him. David and Max had been the ones to go in after their Lieutenant and carry him out to safety. Tripp Barrett had been temporarily paralyzed from the accident and spent months in rehab before returning to the department, only to take an open position as the district battalion chief. It was then that Max had been promoted to B shift Lieutenant in Tripp Barrett's place.

  "Aren't there any secrets in that station house?" She knew there wasn't. News traveled remarkably fast at the station for a group of eleven men and women who spent forty-eight out of every seventy-two hours apart. "I mean, geez, Cory and I have been together less than a month!"

  "Secrets?" David scoffed. "You're kidding, right?"

  "I was." Rayne sighed. "How did everyone figure it out?"

  "He's too happy." David shrugged, posed, waited for her to snap another picture, and then continued. "The way he gets all goofy-eyed, you know, kind of like a cartoon dog with hearts bulging out of his eyes when you walk into the station. It's a pretty dead giveaway. Hell, all someone has to do is mention your name and he gets this far away look. I'm telling you, the man is toast."

  Rayne laughed. She got a ridiculous case of the warm fuzzies knowing she’d made Cory happy. "It's that obvious, huh?"

  "And then some. I haven't seen that man like this since…" David trailed off and shook his head. "Well, you know. It's just good to see him happy again. He's a great guy. If anyone deserves paradise, it's Cory."

  No, she didn't know. Rayne lowered the camera and stared at David. Was he talking about Sicily Harris? He had to be. Rayne knew Cory had been close to Ford's sister. And Cory had been on the scene when they had found her dead. "Since what?" She had to ask because what if she was wrong? "What did you mean? Are you talking about Sicily?"

  "Yeah." David pushed out a breath. "Sicily, too, but mostly Paula. Damn, to lose both of them that way. He loved her so much. They both did." He chuckled and shook his head again. "I never quite understood how they could share her and not be jealous as shit over each other, but they did it." He stopped and studied Rayne, a wide grin unfolding on his lips. "And they're doing it again, too, aren't they? Well, I'll be damned."

  Rayne's blood felt like ice in her veins. Her pulse hammered in her ears almost loud enough to drown out David's words, but not quite. She wished it had. "I don't know what you're talking about." She bowed her head and pretended to fiddle with the camera buttons. She really didn't know what he meant. Who was Paula? Had Cory and Ford been in another ménage once with this woman? And what had David meant about them losing both women that way? Sicily had died in a car accident. She'd been alone in that car. Hadn't she?

  David chuckled, the sound, a mix of amusement and amazement. "Sure you don't," he needled her. "Man, it's like every man's fantasy but in reverse. I don't think I could share my woman with another man. I've got too big of a jealous streak. I'll admit it. But I sure as hell wouldn't mind finding two women willing to share me. I guess that sounds unfair but, hey, truth is truth."

  Yeah, truth was truth, and apparently one or both of her men missed a bit of that truth somewhere along the line. Rayne couldn't believe it. How could they hide something like this from her? Why? Tears burned her eyes and she was thankful David stood far enough away that he probably wouldn't notice. She knew what she had with Ford and Cory was too good to be true. How could one woman be lucky enough to possess the hearts and true devotion of two such magnificent men?

  Paula had apparently been that lucky. She'd had it all and she'd been killed. If Rayne was right, Paula had been taken from this world in an unnecessary tilt of the universe, taken from Ford and Cory. And Rayne, well, she wasn't as lucky because, while it appeared she had Ford and Cory, they weren't really hers. Not in the way she had thought. She was merely a stand-in for them, nothing more than a replacement for the woman they had really loved, the woman they had lost. Paula.

  * * * *

  "He's her insurance adjuster," Michael reminded Ford. "Didn't you tell me that? Isn't that why she recognized him? It stands to reason he would have her brother's address written down somewhere, especially knowing that's where she's been staying."

  Ford looked at him and Michael would have laughed at the incredulous expression on the other man's face if this hadn't been important. They were standing in the living room of a small suburban house belonging to one Deshan Minh. Minh wasn't home, of course. So far, the man was nowhere to be found. Michael still wasn't exactly certain what strings Ford had pulled or what he'd told his superiors to get the search warrant for the premises, but the detective had done it. Detective Samantha Becket and a handful of local officers were currently scoping out the place. Michael had his own men there, too, looking for any sign of the drugs in which they suspected Minh to be involved.

  "Thanks for the bullshit, but save it for someone who doesn't know better." Ford stared back down at the piece of paper he held, the edges uneven as if it had been torn from the corner of a larger page.

  Yeah, it was bullshit. Michael knew it. Insurance adjuster or not, the man wouldn't have simply had Rayne Jacob's address lying around his house. Not without being attached to a file on her insurance claim.

  "Look at this." Adrien crossed the room toward them in three long strides and held out another piece of paper, this one with a portion of the bottom missing. It was rumpled, as if someone had wadded it up with the intent to discard it. "This guy sure sucks at covering his tracks."

  "Mother fucker." Ford breathed.

  Michael shifted closer to the other man and leaned in for a look. It was a list of, well, he wasn’t really sure what. Places Rayne Jacobs had visited recently, perhaps?

  "The mother fucker has been following her for days. Romantic Illusions," Ford pointed to the third place on the list, right after the service station and fire department. "She went there two days ago."

  "Where is she now?" Michael felt a rush of worry coupled with a sudden flash of relief. Worry for Rayne Jacobs because, yes, it was more than obvious Minh had been following her for days. Obviously, he somehow knew about the picture. But he felt the relief for Rhonda because she was safe and
nothing here indicated she wasn't. Minh couldn't be in two places at once and this list made it apparent that he'd been spending all his time on Rayne's tail. Sure, he could’ve enlisted a partner, maybe even Boran Roumduol, but Michael guessed that Minh was doing everything he could to keep Roumduol from finding out about the picture, about Rayne. Minh had screwed up and Adrien was right, the bastard sucked at covering his tracks. Bad luck for Minh, but a possible blessing for Ford. It meant they might have a chance to get to Rayne in time.

  Ford brought a hand to his forehead, rubbing hard at his temples as he fought back the fear for his woman and tried to think clearly. "She's at the station. The fire station," he clarified and then shook his head. "No, she's on a shoot. She had plans to take pictures of David Karlston on location at that house that burned the day of the hurricane. The captain gave Karlston permission to take off a couple of hours since he and Rayne couldn’t seem to connect on a time during his off shift."

  Michael knew of several houses and other buildings that had caught fire that day. The chaos factor after the category three hurricane had been off the charts, and coupled with the fiasco at the docks, city officials with every agency had been on a red alert mission of some catastrophic proportion. It really didn't matter which house he meant. What mattered was that Rayne was safe. Michael wasn’t sure she was. Being out in the open even with a man as capable and strong as David Karlston might not be safe enough against Minh and certainly not Phay's men.

  "Call her," Michael ordered briskly. "Tell her to get to the police station."

  Ford was already reaching for his phone. "If she's where I think she is, she'll be closer to the fire department. I'll tell her to go there."

  * * * *

  Rayne Jacobs was a slut. Deshan wouldn’t have guessed it by the simple meetings he’d had with her. He’d thought her pretty, reserved, quiet, and maybe a bit shy. But after following her the last couple of days, watching her every move, he saw how terribly wrong he’d been. She was a god dammed whore! The bitch was surrounded by men all the time. No doubt she spread those long, shapely legs for every man on the fire department. And the detective, he'd seen her with that damned detective, too.

  "What a lovely woman. Such shiny dark hair and smooth looking skin."

  The voice hot in Deshan's ear made his blood run cold, but it was the icy contact of metal at his temple that made his heart stop.

  "Makes a man wonder what it would feel like to touch that skin, to see that hair falling over his thighs as she goes down on his cock."

  Deshan gulped then squinted when even that tiny movement shifted his face closer to the barrel of the gun. He looked at Rayne Jacobs, saw her reach for the cell phone she'd hooked to the pocket of her tight fitting jeans, saw her ignore the call, and hook the phone back again.

  "Too bad you won't get a chance to be that man. You should've told me about her, Deshan. You should have told me she knew about your association with me."

  Deshan started to shake. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop it, and he hated himself for it. "She doesn’t know anything." His voice shook, too, damn it. Every ounce of fear surging through him, and there was a hell of a lot of it, sounded with his insistence. "She's nothing but a slut. She knows nothing about us."

  Roumduol tsked in Deshan's ear. "Ah, but what of the pictures she took of us? A slut she may be, but even whores have brains."

  "How do you know about the pictures?" Shock moved through Deshan. He'd done everything to keep his suspicions a secret. He didn't even know for certain any pictures of himself and Roumduol in the park existed. He only suspected as much. "There aren't any pictures."

  "So full of lies. Didn't your mother teach you lying is a terrible sin? There are photos, Deshan. Be certain of that. She has them and I want them."

  "I'll get them for you." Deshan thought fast. He was about to shit himself. He couldn't remember ever begging for anything in his life, but if he didn't come up with something to say quick to make Roumduol lower that gun, begging might be his best option. His gaze darted from Rayne where she continued to take pictures of the firefighter. Damn bitch with her fucking camera. This was all her fault. She would pay for this. He hadn't intended to hurt her, but he would now for putting him through this.

  "I can get them for you. I've been watching her for days. I know where they are." It was a lie. He still didn't know exactly, but he figured the only place they could be was saved on the camera she held or inside one of the apartments he'd seen her enter.

  "I've been watching her, too," Roumduol's voice oozed with so much lust and pure meanness that Deshan felt a quick jolt of sympathy for Rayne Jacobs. If Roumduol went after her himself, she'd pay far more than Deshan ever intended to take. "I've been watching you, too. You should've come to me. You should've told me. That babe lives with a fucking detective. Did you know that?"

  Deshan nodded, felt the cold barrel of the gun scrape his temple and gulped. "In the apartment across from her brother's." Rayne wasn't living with the guy, not that Deshan had been able to tell, but no way would he argue with Roumduol. He was already in enough trouble here.

  "Do you know where that detective is now?" Roumduol's voice was a raspy hiss in Deshan's ear, a snake ready to strike.

  Deshan started to shake his head, but the barrel of the gun stopped him. He licked his lips. "No."

  "He's at your house, inside your house, along with several other cops and a couple of suits from the DEA."

  A warmth exploded between Deshan's legs. It wasn't arousal or even excitement. No, he'd pissed himself at that news. His place was crawling with cops and DEA? Oh, shit!

  "What do you think they will find there?" The hiss in Roumduol's tone became more pronounced and he pressed the barrel of the gun harder into Deshan's temple.

  "N-nothing," Deshan stammered. He wanted to squirm, to beg, to run. He did none of those things. Instead, he sat in the driver's seat of his car, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the woman he no longer wanted to date, but would rather kill in a satisfying and slow torture, his pants soaked with his own piss. "There is nothing for them to find." He hoped.

  "You should have come to me." Roumduol tsked again, sounding now as though he were scolding a young child.

  "Give me twelve hours," Deshan said quickly. "I'll get that camera and any pictures she might have taken. I'll even bring her to you. Twelve hours. It probably won't even take that long."

  "You've had more than twelve hours already and you have nothing. I'll get the camera, the pictures, and the woman myself. I'll put an end to all of this myself."

  Deshan closed his eyes as doom settled in his gut. He knew what was coming and he was powerless to stop it.

  "As for my association with you," the barrel of the gun shifted only slightly, "that, too, I will end myself."

  Deshan heard the faint pop of the silenced bullet just before his world and his life went black.

  * * * *

  "Who's next?" When Rayne shot David a questioning look, he elaborated. "For the calendar, who are you photographing next?"

  Rayne didn't answer at first. She drove, careful to keep her speed just under the limit, her gaze fixed on the road. She was having trouble concentrating on anything beyond what she'd learned from David and the betrayal, the pain consuming her very being. She pushed it all away, burying it deep until a time came when she could be alone to take it out again, examine it, and likely chastise herself for being such a total fool. Again.

  "I still have to get Jason Graham and Zack Houston," she answered as she turned onto Main Street

  . The traffic was light for early afternoon, the speed of the city moving in an even and continuous rhythm. The lyrics to the old country song about the world not stopping for her broken heart sprang to mind and she nearly laughed aloud. Melodramatic much? Besides, she didn’t even like country! "And I haven't decided what to do about the dangling months yet."

  "You can probably knock out both Jason and Zack today. As long as ther
e's still nothing going on at the station. I don't think the captain will mind if you switch me out for one of them."

  "Actually, I have some other things to do this afternoon. I figured I would drop you by the station and take care of some other errands I have waiting." Errands such as going back to Max's empty apartment to wallow in her confusion and misery and a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

  Truth was she didn't have anything else pressing to be done. She'd intended to do exactly as David suggested, exchange him for one of the other guys and continue with the photo shoots. But after learning about Paula, the last thing she wanted to do was come in contact with Cory right now. If she stopped at the station for a second longer than it would take to push David out of the car, she would no doubt have to see Cory and probably even speak to him.

  "I'll go with you."

  Rayne looked at him. "Don't you need to get back to the station? You’re still on shift."

  "I am, but well…" He squirmed in his seat. It was actually kind of amusing to watch a guy like David Karlston grow suddenly uncomfortable. At least, it would have been amusing if she weren't starting to dread his next words. "My orders for today's shift are to stick to you like glue." A grin spread over his lips, one that was thoroughly seductive and sexy as hell. "Too bad you're Max’s sister and already hooked up with Cory. Damn, two strikes against me on that one. Today could've been a lot more fun."

  He was kidding, but not entirely. She saw the twinkle in his eyes. Yeah, she might have gone there, too, if not for Cory. Forget about Max. David was an impeccably handsome guy.

  "You were ordered to, what, babysit me today?" She centered on the one part of that little exchange that most threw her for a loop. "By who, the captain?" Surely not. Why would Dean order David to stay with her? What would the captain know about anything that was going on?