Book 1: Texas Wolf Brothers
Chapter One
“Don’t touch the wood,” Axel warned just as his brother reached for it.
“There’s a medical kit on a shelf under the sink.” August sounded broken, no longer the cocky younger brother constantly challenging Axel for authority. “Maybe you can find it in the mess.”
The sink was easy to find—a pipe had broken, and gushed water on the floor. Axel made a note to find the water main once he got everyone ready for transport.
As Axel grabbed the first aid kit, he saw Pete Wills’s legs poking out at an odd angle from under some boxes and what looked like part of a back wall. He was moving and groaning, and Axel urged his brother to check on Pete, just so he wasn’t looking at Derek’s distressing injury.
Axel quickly checked vitals and staunched blood with pressure bandages and was relieved when another medical crew arrived to take over. He relayed what he’d done and had to bite back the request for them to check August as well. The three Verflucht employees were clearly in worse shape—something August would never forgive himself for, although there was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident.
Except…not start a winery.
And not tempt fate by naming it Verflucht.
But those were unproductive thoughts.
To Axel’s relief, August hobbled out next to Pete, his best friend from high school, who was strapped on a stretcher. Axel hoped August would insist on going to the hospital with his crew and would get his own injuries looked after at the same time. “Find Brent and Haven,” August ordered, sounding almost like he was in control again. “I’ll be back.”
“Not a chance. I’ll strap you to a stretcher myself,” Axel muttered rudely and carefully picked his way through the debris to the other side of the tasting room searching for more victims.
Axel had been trying to ignore the smell of wine, smoke, burned rubber, blood and fear that all combined to make a potently unpleasant brew, but then he caught a whiff of a faintly floral scent that dragged him back into the past. It was her scent. Cruz’s. Antonia’s Flowers. Subtle. Evocative.
Axel closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories—her long, silky midnight hair; husky laugh; warm, smooth skin. Why did she still have such a hold over him more than seven years later? He’d known deep down that he’d never be the same after Cruz, after the day when she’d told him—voice strained, face and body tight and looking so much like a stranger—that she wanted to break up. He knew he’d never allow himself to be that vulnerable again.
Axel pulled on a new pair of latex gloves from the first aid kit, his attention on a crouched woman, who looked to be talking softly to a sobbing woman while she cleaned a wound and applied a butterfly bandage. He stepped aside while two paramedics carried out a young man on a stretcher. He spared a moment to look at the tasting room ceiling. He could see part of his brother’s sleek and modern apartment with the touches of western motifs though the gaping hole. Was the building even stable anymore? He strode toward the two women, ready for anything, determined to get them out.
“Excuse me. Do you need help?”
Instead of a random Good Samaritan, Axel nearly stumbled when both women looked up at him, but only one mattered. Fast reflexes and years keeping his balance helped him stay upright. He still felt like he was falling. Axel felt sucker punched.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t even get enough spit to swallow. He felt like a drunk staring at the last bottle of whiskey in the bar. Black eyes glittered as Cruz Lopez rose to her full height—she was the most graceful, most beautiful thing he’d seen in his whole life—nearly looking him in the eye.
He’d always loved her height. It was so sexy and had made everything—flirting, dancing, kissing and loving—even hotter.
And here she was, rising up out of the rubble like a goddess—a dream, mysterious, unattainable, a memory to torture him. Her expression was cool and confident. Her voluptuous mouth a remembered invitation.
Cruz Lopez was in Last Stand.