“I’m not going to fuck him, Lacy. I might fuck him up, but that’s about it.”
“Stop fighting him, huh?” she says, her face turning serious. “He’s made a lot of progress. We all kind of lost it after Tim died and we’re just starting to get back on our feet. Give him a little credit. Please.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Storming out the door, I run to my car and speed down the road to the firehouse. The second I pull into the lot, Nick’s large stature’s standing over Flynn, not allowing him to get into his car. Hitting the accelerator, I almost hit Nick as I screech to a halt a few feet from the men.
“What the hell, Nick?” Stepping out of my car, I try to squeeze between them, neither one willing to back down, to defuse the situation.
“Not now, Christina. Get back in your car,” Nick seethes, not taking his stare off of Flynn.
“I thought I told you to go home,” I say to Flynn whose eyes are pleading with me for help.
“I tried. Your crazy fucking husband won’t let me in my car,” he responds to me, turning back to Nick. “I told you, dude. I didn’t fuck her. She’s beautiful, but not my type, I swear.”
“You’re not helping your case, Flynn,” Nick says, his voice calm and that’s never a good thing. Just like in the middle of a hurricane, there’s a calm before the storm, and that’s what’s going on right now. Nick’s about ready to unleash.
“Dammit, Nick. I’m getting the chief!” I yell, turning on my heel, fully prepared to bring Max into this if Nick’s hell bent on getting suspended, or worse.
My footsteps quicken as the loud pounding of boots comes up behind me, crunching gravel in their wake. “Don’t take another fucking step, Christina.”
Coming to a halt, I don’t turn to face him, but wait for him to put me in my place long enough for Flynn to get in his car and leave the lot. Cursing under my breath when tires squeal on the pavement, knowing I’m alone with Nick, I wait for him to redirect his anger toward me instead of the innocent man who almost received it moments ago.
When he says nothing, it hurts more than if he laid into me. I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours, when in all actuality it’s only been a few minutes. Nick’s breathing evens and instead of having a conversation or bitch session, he steps around me and walks into the firehouse. Walking back to my car, I grab my bag and head inside as well, bypassing the mess hall where I’m sure everyone inside was privy to the earlier altercation.
Not wanting to answer any questions, I ignore the chief’s inquisitive glare. Since I have about an hour until my shift, I take my stuff straight to the private bathroom and run a shower since I didn’t get one earlier. After letting the water wash away some of my frustration, I dress quickly and sit on my bunk.
Jones is on his bed and doesn’t say anything. He nods his head, almost in solidarity, and goes back to reading whatever book he’s working on this shift. Slowly, the rest of my shift comes into the house and the others leave until tomorrow.
One hour turns into two and I can’t continue to hide in the barracks. I’m tempted to comment on the slow night just to jinx it, or at least ask Frankie if she wants to drive around instead of sitting inside. Nick’s not come to see me or talk about anything, which has me worried.
I want to tell him, let him know that I’m not sleeping, or even really dating Flynn, but there’s not much I can do without letting the cat out of the bag. It’s not my truth to tell and the more I think about it, the more I get pissed at Flynn for putting me in this position. The only explanation is he told someone, or Nick saw us at dinner with Flynn’s parents.
If that’s the case, I can’t blame Nick. I put on a show for them, giving them every reason to think I was in love with their son. I did everything I was asked to do. They bought it and Flynn won’t have to worry for at least a few months about his parents questioning him. But where does that leave me?
Sitting alone in my bunk, I impatiently wait for someone to be hurt or sick enough to need a paramedic. How fucked up is that? My job’s to save people, not wish harm to them just to avoid the uncomfortable silence.
Well, it was silent until my stomach started growling. Remembering the only thing I’ve had all day was some spiked coffee, I push off the bed, grabbing my jacket in the process, just in case Frankie wants to get out of the house, and walk into the mess hall.
None of the guys say anything, but their questioning stares lead me to believe they want to, they just don’t know what to say. I almost prefer it from them. The only person I want to talk to, anyway, is nowhere to be found. I wonder if he had the chief send him home for the night after his outburst. Trying to ignore everything around me, I grab a banana and start to walk back to the bunks to spend the rest of my night wallowing until I can get out of here.
On my way down the hall, a strong hand takes hold of my arm and pulls me into the supply closet, scaring me so badly, I drop my banana in the hallway. When the door slams behind me, Nick’s cold glare catches me off guard and I back away from him. I’m not nervous he’ll hurt me, but he’s got a look in his eye that tells me he’s more than pissed.
He’s hurt. And it’s all my fault.
I want to console him. I do. And I know, more than I’m willing to admit, that the minute I do, the wall I’ve carefully constructed around my heart will tumble and everything I’ve feared about going back to the way we were will be real.
I’ll be his for the taking. And even worse, he’ll know it. I’ll have no defense and I know Nicholas Conrad enough to know that once he sees his opening, he’s going in and he’s going to go in hard. Taking no prisoners in his wake.
Here goes nothing.
CHAPTER NINTEEN
NICK
Tired, frustrated and annoyed, I corner Tina in the supply room. Enough is enough and it’s about damn time we have this out. Together or not together, I can deal with it, but this back and forth shit is too much. If she can’t say what she wants, I’ll force it out of her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she cuts in, trying to squeeze past me. Putting up my arm, I block her escape route and take another step closer, pinning her back against the wall. Like a caged animal, she looks up at me with fear and determination in her eyes.
“I’ve had about enough of this shit. You want me, you don’t want me. You go on a date but flip your shit when I just dance with someone. You want to move on and I can’t. Make up your fucking mind, Tina. For once, just do what the fuck feels right.”
“After that shit with Flynn, it proves you’ve not changed. You only care about yourself. And sometimes there’s just too much water under the bridge.”
“What’s so hard about it? Do you love me?” I ask, ready for her to finally put me out of my misery or step up to the plate.
“Nick,” she whispers, pushing on my chest, but I’m not moving. Not until this game is finished.
“Christina. Answer the question,” I command, pushing even closer until our bodies are flush.
“Yes,” she breathes. “But love isn’t everything. You know that. We know that.”
“Bullshit!” I yell, her head jerking at my harsh tone. Taking a deep breath—okay, maybe a few of them—I get my emotions in check. “If you love me, let’s try again. None of this casual shit. We’re in one hundred percent. Both of us.”
“It won’t work. Nothing’s changed. You’ve not changed. I can’t get hurt again.”
“Seriously? You can’t get hurt again? Is this a fucking joke? You walked out on me. When I needed you. You left. You didn’t fight. You bailed. And you don’t want to get hurt again?” I seethe. Slamming my hand on the wall behind her head, she flinches and tries to crawl inside herself. “You broke me, Tina,” I say in a softer tone. “I’ve tried to fight against wanting you back. God, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to block out memories, forget things from our past, ignore the way you smell and the way you feel. Hell, I’ve even asked my therapist how to get you the fuck out of my head, and nothing works. Maybe
nothing works because I’m not supposed to forget. Maybe we’re supposed to do this. Together.”
“You’re seeing someone?” she asks, her voice soft and compassionate.
“Is that all you took out of what I said?”
She just looks at me. Her eyes pleading, but shocking to me there isn’t one ounce of pity in the chocolate depths. “Yes,” I grunt. “I needed to get through some stuff. Tried by myself for a while and it wasn’t working. The chief set me up with a good dude. Got a lot of shit under control.”
“Nick,” she whispers, leaning forward and resting her head on my chest. Wrapping her arms around my middle, I’m confused to say the least. Maybe it’s her who needs to see someone. Mood swing city over here. “I’m so happy.”
Rising up on her toes, she plants a small kiss on the corner of my mouth. Unable, maybe unwilling, to let this moment pass, I turn into her kiss and take one for my own. Licking across the seam of her mouth, a small moan escapes her throat and that’s the only sign I need to continue.
Hands become grabby, kisses become sloppy, arousal becomes thick in the air and we’re both lost to our desires. Gripping the hem of her tee shirt, I forcefully lift it over her head and toss it to the ground behind me. Tina’s impatient hands fumble with my belt and fly, eventually getting them open.
“What about Flynn?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer, but needing to make sure she’s in this as much as I am. I can’t take her walking away again. And not to the arms of another man.
“It’s not what you think. Just leave it at that, please,” she pleads, kissing her way down my neck. That’s good enough for me.
In the blink of an eye, Tina’s jumping into my arms wearing only a bra and underwear and my own pants are around my ankles as I pull aside the face fabric, align myself at her entrance and lower her onto my cock. I quickly thrust, bottoming out and giving Tina a second to ease past the discomfort before I begin moving.
With Tina’s hands in my hair, pulling and holding me to her while she kisses me long and deep, my fingers massage the firm globes of her ass, slowly raising and lowering her. Pushing her closer to the wall for support, I use one hand to hold her up and the other to pull out her breast and suck one nipple into my mouth. Leaning her head back, her throaty moans echo in the small space.
“Oh my God,” she cries and I smile around her tit. Bending slightly at the knees, my thrusts become more rapid, desperately seeking my release as well as hers. When her walls clamp around me, starting to pulse around my cock, it shoves me into a frenzy where the only thing that matters is our mutual satisfaction. I shove the side of my hand to Tina’s mouth and she clamps down, biting through her orgasm, effectively pushing me over the edge as well.
The moment I lower her back to the ground, both of our breathing heavy and the scent of sex lingering in the air, I smile coyly and she blushes. “You ready to give it a go?” I ask, handing Tina her pants.
“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks, pulling on her shirt.
“What if it does?” I retort, zipping my fly. “You once said I was the smartest man you knew. Are you doubting my expert opinion?” I joke.
Her mouth opens to respond and the alarm sounds overhead, calling out for my truck and her ambulance.
“Rain check?” she asks, pulling her hair tight in a ponytail. Groaning, I kiss her on top of the head and open the supply closet door. I let her walk out first, me following closely behind.
As I’m shoving my feet in my boots and pulling my coveralls up over my uniform, I glance over at Tina who’s smiling from the passenger side of her rig. Winking, I take second chair in the truck and within seconds, we’re both peeling out of the firehouse headed to our call.
Arriving on scene, all that happened with Tina only moments ago is pushed to the back of my mind. There’s work to be done, people to save.
The fire itself doesn’t look too bad, but the building is in really bad condition. An abandoned house, like any other call, but I can’t escape the dread I feel staring at the three-story structure. Looking like an old Victorian mansion, the smoke billows out of the second story windows.
Giving direction to my crew, Mack and I make entry first. Jones stays behind with Richards to work the hose once we’ve cleared the house. Everything around me is a blur, except for the task at hand. The main floor seems untouched as we’re making our way through.
“Fire department. Anyone in here?” I call out, blocking out everything else, listening for a response. Room by room, we assess the main floor is clear.
With Mack on my heels, we carefully go to the second level, where the fire’s most likely burning an inferno, and begin our search. Opening the door, the smoke comes out in a rush. I drop to a crouch and slowly, yet effectively, start looking for victims.
“Fire department,” Mack says from behind me. Scouring the floor, looking for arms, legs, any sign of life really, we’re about to go back downstairs when a small arm catches my attention.
“Over here!” I yell, crawling toward the body. Pushing aside an overturned end table and some boxes, the arm appears to be attached to a little boy, eight or nine maybe.
Mack’s by my side, helping me to pull the kid from his hiding spot. Fury washes over me as I wonder what kind of parent don’t know where their child is or lets them play in abandoned houses. Then I remember the crowd of kids that were hanging around outside when we pulled up. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were all in here, shit went wrong and they scattered, except they forgot their friend. Shaking my head, I grab the kid in my arms and start carrying him to the stairs.
“Here, you take him. I’m going to do one last sweep,” I tell Mack, handing off the child and watch the two of them make their way out to safety. Going back to where I found the boy, I search quickly, listening to the fire crackle around me and the floorboards cracking beneath my feet. I have a matter of seconds to get out of here before the floor gives way.
“Fire department!” I yell in one final effort to save anyone left behind. No answer. No response.
“I’m coming out, Max. Go ahead and hit it with water,” I say into my radio, making my way back to the stairs when one foot slips through the floor. Pain immediately sears through my leg as something rips my pants. I reach for my radio again to call for help and the other leg goes through.
I briefly remember falling through the floor, my body landing hard on the cement. It feels like I fall forever. With debris on top of my body, moving from my current position is a futile effort. Every time I try, sharp, shooting pains radiate through my entire body. I lie there lifelessly and my alarm starts to beep and the only thing I can think is at least I laid it all out for Tina before I died. At least she’ll never have to wonder how I felt about her. She’ll know she was loved.
And then everything goes black.
CHAPTER TWENTY
TINA
“Someone give me your fucking coat!” I yell to the group of firemen standing around the ambulance. I know they hear me, but dammit, they won’t make eye contact. When everyone else ran out, minus Nick, my heart plummeted. Nick is in that building somewhere and I’m going to find him if they won’t. He could be hurt … or worse.
“I can’t let you go in there, Mitchell,” the chief whispers, pulling me into his side. Both of us watch the building, the flames slowly being extinguished on the upper level. When they cut the hose, I turn toward Max and tell him exactly what’s about to happen.
“You’re not letting me do anything. I’m going in. Only question is will someone give me their coat?” Shaking his head, he taps Cortland on the shoulder and strips him of his coat, handing it to me.
“You’re with Jones, do you hear me? You stay with him. Do not leave his side. Not for anything,” he orders and I nod my head. “Say it out loud, Tina.”
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, shrugging into the oversized coat and grabbing an oxygen tank, mask and my emergency bag.
“Ready?” Jones asks, pausing outside the entrance t
o the enflamed building.
“Ready.” My voice comes out muffled and shaky. I am ready. If Nick’s injured and needs immediate attention, I’m his best chance of making it out of this building alive. A four alarm fire is nothing to joke about. I shouldn’t be going in—nobody should—but we have a man down in here. My man’s down in there. Either we all go home or none of us … isn’t that part of the unorthodox firefighter’s credo or something?
With my hand on Jones’s back, he leads me through the door and to the right. Feeling his body crouch low, I follow suit, assuming he knows far more about this than I do. After a few steps, my thighs burn in protest, but I continue his lead until we reach a flight of stairs. Over the leaking water from above, the roar of commotion outside and the crackling of the flames being suffocated nearby, I hear Jones’s voice.
“Last communication we had, he was on three. That’s when the floor gave way. We searched two and the main floor. Only other place he could be is in the basement. Watch my step, Mitchell. The captain would have our asses if he knew we were going in on a rescue. Say a prayer.” And I do. Say a prayer, that is.
My heart leaps that Jones is referring to our actions as a rescue mission as opposed to recovery. There’s still hope. There’s still a chance Nick’s alive. He might be hurt, but they think there’s a possibility. I can work with a possibility.
Holding on to the railing, we make our way down the dark and dreary stairwell, all the while I’m saying prayers that it’ll be here after we find Nick. At the base, Jones takes both of our flashlights and illuminates parts of the basement. From what I can see, while crouching behind Jones, there’s a lot of debris—wood beams, shards of metal and so much swirling smoke.
“Do you see him?” I ask, immediately being told to hush. Okay, he didn’t say anything, but by the sharp look he gives me, his brows furrowed and ears perked like a dog on a mission, I don’t have to ask. He wants me to be quiet.
Then I hear it.
Rapid beeping. Low pitched, but loud enough for me to hear it over the roaring blood in my ears. Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid? The alarm he wears on his uniform. The one that lets us know where he is in case of injury so he can be rescued.
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