Second Chances Read Free Page A

with failure.”
    Pierce made a small noise in her throat, which almost sounded amused. “We have money; we simply need medical personnel who are familiar with disaster relief. If you feel you can’t do it, so be it. “
    “I’m not ‘medical personnel’, “ Lyle chipped in, “I just bury their mistakes—no offence intended to present company. And I’m not even qualified to do that yet. What the hell use would I be, even if I did believe your fairy tales?” Lyle’s interjection was low and quiet, his eyes fixed directly on the woman.
    Pierce and Breslaw exchanged a brief glance and then Breslaw addressed Lyle quietly. “We can discuss your options later, Mr Tate. I’ve already spoken to Ms Pierce concerning your skills.” Lyle glared at Breslaw, his stare openly challenging. He was angry enough to snap the big marshall’s neck, but retreated into silence again. He’d said what he felt the others needed to know, for now anyway.
    “As for helping you,” Pierce continued, “we were asked to. Petrov was part of a federal sting that now has to be refocused because of his untimely, rather gruesome death. Now, they’d be happy to reset the sting and watch the mobsters pick each of you off, but they’d have to intervene at some point. They’d rather take down the big bosses, not the street thugs who would be sent after you.”
    Miles had had enough of this bullshit. “All this talk of ‘they’ and ‘we’ – people who are too shit scared or too full of themselves to actually say who they are. There is no way you’ve come anywhere near convincing me that they, whoever they are, give a shit about what happens to one simple Aussie doctor. If the mafia want my butt, they’d steamroll me before I was even aware of it, and, quite frankly, Ma’am, I wouldn’t give a damn.”
    “ They honestly don’t give a damn, also. But we’re doing this as a favor. Perhaps you’d like to ask your friend Mr. Tate about that?”
    Fucking Lyle? He was the last person Miles would ever want to ask for anything.
    “Miles?” Gil’s voice was quiet, tentative. He glanced back at Lyle but the man was almost lost inside himself. He doubted that what he was about to say would do their budding relationship any good, but Gil couldn’t in all conscience let this be.
    “Yes, Gil. Whadda you want?” Miles stopped at the doorway and turned back. Gil’s face had gone white. The young paramedic seemed to be struggling to find something to say. Before Lyle fucking Tate had arrived on the scene, the thought of not seeing Gil again might have actually hurt, which was strange as Miles hadn’t felt anything at all since Darren’s death, but now the thought of being stuck on an island with the two lots of lovebirds made him feel sick inside. Darren was here in the States, even if he was dead and buried. There was no way Miles wanted to go any further away from him.
    Gil glanced once more at Lyle and, getting no reaction there, he threw caution to the winds. Crossing the room, he pushed Miles into the corridor and turned him right, guiding him into the kitchen. “Miles, what the fuck was that all about? You can’t…” Gil dug his fingers into Miles’ arm. “How can you think like this? They might not give a damn… but I do!”
    Miles swallowed as Gil shoved him back against the wall and stepped right into him. Now their bodies were touching in so many places he lost count. God, the young man was gorgeous; there was some clean smell about him that got every one of Miles’ senses working overtime.
    Gil’s heart was thumping too fast, coherent thought had evaporated. He did the only thing he could think of, something he had wanted to do for so damn long, and leaned in, his mouth closing over Miles’, his tongue demanding entry.
    The touch of soft lips against his made Miles moan and his knees buckle. Part of him was responding to the kiss, the part that sent blood coursing through his body straight to his groin, the other part