Single Mom’s Firemen: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

That was one helluva gamble.

But it paid off in more ways than one. In ways I couldn’t even imagine until I held Halle in my arms, until I felt her unraveling and transforming into a whole new being. Because that’s what ignited between us. A transcending, life-changing experience where each of us emerged as better, highly evolved versions of ourselves. It may sound poetic but I haven’t found a better way to explain how I feel.

Every breath that I take has me thankful that we took that chance with Halle. She submitted and welcomed us with everything we had to give. She took all of us and made it hers. It’s an alarming thought to have, but it is quickly becoming an undeniable truth for all three of us.

We’re hooked.

Addicted.

Irreversibly infatuated by this woman.

I intend to move heaven and earth for her and her kids.

To that end, we need to figure out how we’re going to get her to stay and whether she was the intended target of that diner fire. I’m counting on Eric to focus on the former over the next couple of weeks while Chase and I take over the arson investigation. It’s a sensible distribution of resources, given these new circumstances.

Eric takes Halle out on dates, wining and dining her. He’s even been picking the kids up from daycare when needed.

We’ve been handling the diner fire investigation—talking to witnesses and neighbors, analyzing every single aspect of the case in a tight partnership with Charlie Drucker.

The Dallas FD’s Arson Squad isn’t usually as open with its cases, but given our military history with Charlie, we were able to gain our consultant badges for this particular endeavor. I won’t rest until Halle feels safe for the rest of her life. The woman and her children have been through enough.

Chase and I make our way through the second floor of the police station, already familiar with the seemingly chaotic layout of the bullpen. Memories of our lovemaking with Halle linger in the back of my head as we head for Charlie’s desk in the eastern corner. It’s situated by one of the large windows and the sun pours through.

“Mom seemed annoyed the other day,” Chase says as we approach.

“When?”

“Friday night at the family dinner,” he replies. “Remember? When she kept asking if we’d had deeper conversations with Halle about her past.”

“Ah, right,” I say, remembering that rather uncomfortable exchange. “She wants us to find out more about Halle’s history, which I don’t think is an issue, but I agree with Eric’s conclusion from that night. It’s Halle’s business, and she’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

“Yeah, but what irked me was Mom’s persistence. It was almost as if she knows something about Halle that Halle isn’t telling us,” Chase mutters.

I think about it for a moment. “I reckon it’s still Halle’s business. If Mom knows something, then she needs to tell us. If Halle won’t, why push it? Then again, our mother has always been the overprotective parent.”

“Halle is healing from some pretty serious trauma. That much we can tell based solely on her behavior. Mom confirmed it, too. Halle has some obvious triggers. Moments when she simply freezes. She’s still in survival mode,” I say. “We need to give her the safety and space that she needs in order to switch that off. Anything we do until then might add more pressure and make everything worse.”

“I’m with you there, brother,” Chase says, then moves his attention to Charlie Drucker, who sees us coming and gets up from his seat to shake our hands. “Mornin’, Charlie. How’s it going?”

Charlie gives us both a satisfied grin. He’s been up all night, judging by the dark rings around his eyes and the coffee stains on his once-white shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, and his black hair is a mess.

“It’s going better than I expected, despite the time it took to get here,” Charlie says, then gives me a polite nod as he receives his coffee and sugar-glazed pastry we picked up for him on the way in. “You’re a lifesaver, Wyatt, as always.”

“Figured you could use the pick-me-up, since you’re working this case as hard as I know you’re working it,” I say.

“Go on, brother, talk to us,” Chase says. “What’s new?”

Charlie resumes his seat and motions for us to look at his computer screen. As soon as we’re set, he opens a folder with several CCTV clips, clicking on the second file. “I found the perp’s car,” he says. “He parked it just around the corner. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to track his movements through the neighbors’ cameras but I did. Caught him just outside the laundromat. Look here.”

Sure enough, we spot him turning the corner and stopping next to a dark green car.

“That’s a pricey looking ride for a run-of-the-mill arsonist,” I note.

“It’s a Jaguar,” Charlie says, then waits for the guy to get in the Jag and drive off before showing us a couple more traffic cam clips that were able to catch his plates, too.

“Holy smokes, you got his plates,” Chase says.

“I sure did.”

He pulls up DMV records next and a photo of our culprit appears on the screen. There’s a hint of familiarity about him that I can’t quite pinpoint and it bugs me to the bone.

“Colby Nash,” I read his name out loud. “From San Antonio.”

“Not just any Colby Nash,” Charlie replies before giving us a view of various online newspapers with saucy headlines and different photos of the same man, either by himself or in the company of an elegantly dressed but sour-looking older woman. “Colby Nash, only son of Harriet and Lucius Nash.”

“Hold on. Lucius Nash? The mobster they dubbed The Devil?” I ask, having heard that name more than once over the years.

Charlie nods. “That’s him. Colby doesn’t have any felony priors, though. He was arrested a couple of times on minor bullshit but they could never make anything stick. His mother’s been investigated by the SEC more than once after Lucius bit the dust, but again, nothing stuck.”

“Lucius ‘The Devil’ Nash came up in the late 70s, didn’t he?” Chase mutters. “Had his fingers dipped in different pies, most of it illegal, hiding under umbrella corps and whatnot. Racketeering, all kinds of trafficking, guns, gambling, the whole shebang, but he posed as some kind of big oil tycoon, didn’t he?”

“His widow is out there doing the same thing, running his empire to this day,” Charlie says. “Those oil fields they keep bragging about went dry a long time ago, though there wasn’t much in them to begin with. Old man Lucius took most of the money from that and put it into seemingly legitimate businesses. It’s how he built his empire. At one point in the 80s, Lucius was one of the most powerful men in the whole state of Texas.”

“And now?” I ask.

“Harriet is still running their operations, but last I heard the Feds were putting together a couple of RICO stings,” Charlie replies. “Harriet is nowhere near as smart and as convincing as Lucius was. She’s got her grieving widow charm, but that doesn’t keep certain folks as loyal as she’d like them to be. Plus, from what I gathered after reading some CI statements, that son of hers is a real piece of work.”

“Colby Nash,” I say his name again.

Charlie nods and zooms in on a couple of news articles. “Here. See what I mean?”

“Lucifer’s Son: Wife Beater,” says one headline. “He beat his wife?”

“Yeah. Ruthless bastard. I found some emergency room notes attached to several incident reports that were never filed with Dallas PD,” Charlie says. “I think the mother swooped in and paid people off to keep things quiet. The wife never filed charges.”

“Show me the wife,” Chase says. His voice is low and cold. His expression grows dark. Seething. As soon as I look at the screen again, I realize why his demeanor shifted so suddenly. “Fuck.”

Her hair is shorter and dyed platinum blonde. She wore tight, brightly colored dresses with plunging necklines that accentuated her curves. Heavy gold jewelry on her wrists.

And bruises aplenty.

“Halle,” I whisper.

She’s slightly slimmer and looks miserable. The fear in her eyes literally jumps off the page. Even in photos where she clearly wasn’t aware of the camera, it’s evident that Halle was on edge, terrified, while walking beside that man. I’d recognize a victim of domestic abuse anywhere.

“Helena Nash,” Charlie reads aloud from a marriage certificate.

He didn’t hear me whisper her name. The Halle we know and the woman in these photos looks almost completely different. We know Halle as Halle Harrison.

The pieces of the puzzle start coming together and the greater picture is startling.

“Charlie, can you tell us where this guy’s car has been since the diner?” Chase asks, his brow furrowed as he gives me a quick but knowing glance.

“I’m running a search through the city’s traffic cam system, but it will take a while,” he says. “I can send everything over as soon as I get the first batch of results.”

“Please, do that. Thanks, man,” Chase replies, then looks at me again. “We need to talk.”

Once we’re out of the police station, I’m finally able to start cussing like a drunken sailor while Chase texts Eric. There’s a lot of traffic at this hour, drowning our voices in a river of car engines and aggravated horns as we make our way down the street. I’m not ready to get in the car just yet. I need another coffee. With some whiskey in it.

“Halle Harrison,” I say her name again.

“Helena Nash,” Chase replies. “One and the fucking same.”

“She lied to us.”

“Given who her ex-husband is, I’m not exactly surprised. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?”

I nod slowly as we stop outside a local, cop-friendly bar. It’s almost noon, and the waitress is out on the summer terrace, cleaning the tables for the day’s customers. We take a seat at one and order ourselves a couple of Irish coffees.

“Since all of her paperwork was lost in the fire it was easy for her to lie,” Chase says.

“That motherfucker tried to burn the diner down with her and their kids in it,” I mutter, my blood boiling with rage. “He’s even worse than his father.”

“You read the articles. Unhinged. Psychopath. They called him every name under the sun, crediting his mother’s 500-bucks-an-hour-lawyers for the fact that he’s still a free man.”

“It was only a matter of time before he slipped up, though,” I say.

Chase seems doubtful. “He’s gotten out of bigger pinches than this. The camera footage is circumstantial, at best. The footage that shows him getting in the driver’s seat of that green Jag at the diner can be contested as not being the same man in the traffic cam shots because those showed the driver in a different colored shirt.”

“He must’ve taken the hoodie off.”

“Probably, but the first shot doesn’t show the plate numbers. Only the nearby traffic cams do. And any good defense lawyer can place enough doubt in a jury’s mind to potentially acquit the fucker,” Chase says. “You heard Charlie. They need more evidence. The gas can with his prints on it would be gold but we don’t know where he tossed that.”

“That’s a wild dream, Chase. We’re never gonna find that,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee. Slowly but surely, that generous dash of alcohol starts working its way into my system, relaxing me somewhat. “Halle lied to us. It’s… I don’t know.”

“Do you think she knows who set the fire?”

I shake my head. “It may have crossed her mind that he could’ve been involved but seems she would’ve run like hell if she knew it was him for sure.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Chase agrees. “Have you noticed how neither she nor the kids ever talk about him?”

“We could’ve told Charlie about this,” my brother says, ignoring my question.

“And draw even more attention to Halle? No. She is terrified of that man, and based on what we already know, for good reason. We need to talk to her first before we bring it up with Charlie. She and the kids almost died in that fire.”

I’m genuinely conflicted.

My brothers and I are falling head over heels for this woman. She never asked for anything from us and yet we offered her everything. Everything, including ourselves, as of late. Halle welcomed us, body and soul. We must be careful, though. This could easily end in heartbreak for all four of us. We need honest communication, first and foremost.

At the same time, I can’t ignore the anger currently picking away at me like a hungry crow. Halle lied to us about who she is. She’s been keeping some pretty big secrets. The kind that could put us and our family in danger but maybe that’s why she’s been keeping her past a secret. I quickly tell myself that’s the reason. It makes sense in my head.

How do we keep Colby Nash away from Halle, Sammy, and Luna? He’s found them and from what I’ve just learned about the man he will do whatever it takes to get them back in his evil grip.