Lost in Shadows by CJ Lyons

gaze lingered as she leaned into the car and retrieved it from the passenger seat. 
    “Ready?” she asked, her hand on the door.
    He took a few steps. It felt off balance to have his left arm out of commission. “As I’ll ever be.”
    She hesitated, then reached into the car for one more item. “Here, this will help.” 
    She handed him a beautifully carved walking stick with a wicked looking point on the end, designed to bite into the ice and snow for added traction. From the way she avoided looking at it, he knew it had to belong to her husband. The late husband, dead cop. 
    He wrapped his hand around the thick grip and wondered if he really wanted to carry a souvenir of a ghost. But one step through the thick snow and he knew he needed the walking stick almost as much as he needed her. The thought galled him. 
    Before he could thank her, she slammed the door shut, and they stood in complete darkness and silence.
    As if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER 7
     
     
    “Chase Westin,” KC said as she entered the dining room, pulling her robe around her, hair still wet from her shower, “who taught you to set a table? The forks go on the left, not the right.”
    Her husband-to-be straightened from his position bent over the china and silver, his tuxedo pants were on, sans cummerbund, held up by suspenders. His shirt hung open, revealing his well-muscled chest. 
    “Don’t mess with me,” he said. “I’m on the edge here, woman. First those damn studs that came with this monkey suit and now you’re telling me I’ve got to start all over again? Look, I’m right-handed, when I dig into my food I don’t want to waste time with a cross draw. The forks should be on the right.”
    He turned to her, planted his feet and waved a fork in defiance before placing it on the right hand side of the next place setting. KC let her gaze range over him, six feet of former Marine, still in fine fighting shape, with thick blonde hair that begged to have a woman’s fingers run through it, dark blue eyes and large, strong hands that could make her melt with the slightest touch.
    She squared off with him, hands on her hips, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. “What about the lefties? Rose is left-handed and so is Marion.” Their small wedding party was composed of Jay, Chase’s younger brother who was to stand up for her, and Lucky, Chase’s best friend as his best man. 
    The rest of the guests were Chase and KC’s colleagues at the Special Threats Response Team. Including Rose Prospero, their boss, and Billy Price, the ex-Delta Force member who was Rose’s second in command. As the new kid at the STR, KC was anxious to have everything go smoothly.
    “Marion doesn’t mind a cross draw and Rose will rearrange everything to suit herself anyway,” he said with a smile. He threw the rest of the silverware onto the table with a clatter. “Hell, let ‘em all suit themselves.” 
    He reached for the belt of her robe and drew her close.
    “We don’t have time for this,” she murmured as his hands slid beneath the terrycloth to glide over her still wet skin. “You’re not even dressed.”
    His mouth found hers, immersed her in a heated kiss, then moved down her throat. “You’re not either.”
    “Seriously, Chase, I’ll help you with your studs.”
    He shook his head. “I decided on a new fashion statement. I call it the Fabio look. How do you like it?” She giggled as his tongue found a sensitive spot. “I’m the only stud for you,” he said in a fake accent that sounded more Schwarzenegger than Fabio and lifted her onto the table. 
    He straightened, and KC didn’t like the gleam in his eye. She had the feeling she’d need another shower soon. 
    “Wait, I have a present for you.” He reached behind him to the buffet and took a small flat box with a bright red ribbon from it. “Here, open it.”
    KC pulled the ribbon off and raised the box lid. Two pairs of