Flames of Love

by Melissa Foster

  “I don’t care, Cash.” Her words lost their oomph. She was tired and confused. “That doesn’t matter to me. I came here because I was so mad after he kissed me that the only place I wanted to be was in your arms; then I saw all those guys looking at me, and…” She brushed her hair out of her face. “And I got nervous. I mean, here I waltz into the place you work and expect you to just take me in your arms. Which you did.” You really did. “And maybe in a firehouse that’s totally the wrong thing to do. I don’t know. I don’t want to mess up whatever relationships you have here by being the needy girlfriend—”

  “Bradleyt, Siena. You can be the needy girlfriend. It doesn’t make you any less of a strong person. You think I don’t know how tough you are? And you aren’t going to mess up my friendships with the guys.” He cupped her cheek with his sooty hand and his eyes softened. “I haven’t told the guys about you because they’re gonna ride me about it. And…”

  “And?” What else could there possibly be? Wouldn’t he be proud that he was dating her? Shouldn’t he be as proud as she was about dating him? She was proud, she realized. Even with his gruff exterior, she liked who Cash was. A lot. And she wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with him anywhere.

  “Look, I’m a private guy, okay? And that magazine you were in, it made the rounds before we started dating. Every one of those guys has seen you in your…pink panties.”

  “In my…” Oh shit. To Siena, modeling was a job. Something she loved doing. It was her career. When she first began modeling, she thought about guys leering at her, or doing God knew what while looking at pictures of her, and it had bothered her, but she’d gotten used to it. It was part of her job, and she wasn’t exposing her private bits to the media and the masses. The men she’d dated hadn’t given a hoot about it, other than to be proud. Cash’s jealousy was new to her, though not new to their relationship. She’d caught glimpses of it earlier in the day, when she told him about the date with Gunner. But she hadn’t thought about that jealousy infiltrating other parts of his life. And now that she realized what was going on in his mind, it made sense that he’d drag her away from them without an introduction and send Joe away until he figured out how to deal with things.

  Things.

  Pink panties.

  “Cash, I only came here to be with you. I’m sorry if your buddies saw the ads I was in, but it’s my job. It’s not like I’m posing for them. And to be honest, I don’t really care if they know about us or not, but I would care if I couldn’t come see you when I needed or wanted to.” She ran her finger through the soot on his chest and then looked down at her jacket, now covered with soot.

  “Sorry.” He wrinkled his forehead. “You came here because you wanted to be in my arms?” He reached for her hand. “I like that.”

  “Yeah. Me too. We have a weird relationship.” The words came out before she could think about them.

  He clenched his jaw again, and she was sure he agreed with her.

  “I don’t mean that in a bad way, Cash, but it’s true. We have this connection that feels so deep, and so real, and then we have this thing between us that makes us bang heads.” She dragged her finger across his chest again and wrote her name in the soot.

  Cash looked down and laughed softly. “Marking your territory? Or leaving a memory behind?”

  She drew her brows together, as if she were thinking it over. “Definitely marking my territory. I ran to you, remember?”

  “Well, with that soot on your face and all over your clothes, I’d say I marked my territory, too.” He pulled her close again. “Yeah, we have a weird relationship. But what really matters is that we have an honest relationship. The rest will settle down at some point.”

  She pulled back to see the look in his eyes, and she saw just what she thought she would—uncertainty. It tugged at her heart.

  “Or it won’t,” he said with a shrug. “More important, do I need to have a talk with Gunner Gibson?”

  “A talk?” She imagined him stalking Gunner—angry fireman against oblivious quarterback. The thought made her smile. “No. I can handle him as long as you can handle me afterward.”

  He slipped his hands around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers. “Babe, you’re not someone I need to handle.”

  He paused just long enough for his warm breath to circle her neck and send a chill down her back.

  “You’re like a fire. I want to study you, understand you, and learn what makes you lose control.”

  He kissed her neck, and between the heat of his bare chest pressed against her, his heartbeat hammering in time with her own, and his sensual whispered words, Siena could barely breathe. Yes. Oh God, yes!

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE NEXT MORNING, Cash headed into the kitchen hoping none of the guys had gotten industrious and gone to the convenience store. If Siena’s picture was on the cover of the gossip magazines at the newsstand, he at least wanted coffee before facing it. He’d hidden out in a back room last night to avoid the litany of questions he was sure they’d bombard him with after Siena left, and he’d worked on Vetta’s photo album until long after the other guys were asleep, and he’d heard from Siena, indicating that she’d arrived home safely.

  “Shit, man, what happened to you in that fire last night?” Joe asked Mike. “Find a Playboy and take a break?”

  They were sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast. Cash patted Mike on the back. “Glad you were all right, man. Could happen to any of us.” Cash glared at Joe, though he enjoyed razzing the guys just as much as Joey did. That was part of the firehouse brotherhood.

  “Cash, you still okay to help me move my brother’s desk today?” Tommy asked when he came into the kitchen.

  “Desk? What are you talking about?”

  “I told you about two weeks ago. I need help moving my brother’s desk. You got plans?” Tommy sat down with a plate of eggs and stared at Cash.

  “Uh, no, man, that’s fine. I don’t remember talking about it, but whatever. Sure. I’m on until tonight anyway.” He pulled out his cell phone to send a text to Siena.

  “What happened to that magazine that was in the TV room?” Joe slid a look at Mike.

  Mike cleared his throat. “I don’t know. Tom? Where’d that thing go?”

  Tommy eyed the two of them and shook his head.

  “I’m heading over to the medical supply store this afternoon to see if they have a walker. Anyone wanna go?” Joe asked.

  Cash fisted his hands.

  “Johnnie Walker?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah. I heard he’s got a sweet pair of pink—”

  “All right. Enough.” Cash pushed himself up from the table so quickly his chair crashed to the floor. He stared them down.

  Mike and Joe laughed.

  Tommy eyed the men again and shook his head. “Why’re you always pokin’ the bear?”

  “Oh, man, because nothing else is quite as much fun.” Joe set his breakfast on the table and speared a hunk of eggs.

  “Her name is Siena, and I’m dating her, so keep your traps shut. Got it?” Cash threw his plate in the sink and crossed his arms, looming over Joe.

  “Dude, she’s in a magazine. It’s not like you can stop anyone from seeing her.” Joey shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  Cash leaned down and said in an angry, even tone, “Think I don’t know that? But I can sure as hell stop you two from disrespecting her.”

  “All right. Fine. So what’s the deal? You’re dating now?” Mike looked at Tommy, who shrugged. “Dude, we were all there for the photo shoot. You could have said something.”

  Cash trusted these guys with his life. Why on earth was he having such trouble telling them about Siena? Why did he feel like he needed to protect her?

  “I wasn’t dating her then. But yeah, we’re dating now.” Cash locked eyes with Tommy, who sat back, crossed his arms, and arched a brow. Cash knew that smirk on his face well. He was enjoying every second of Cash’s discomfort. “Look, I know
you’ve seen the ads. Hell, everyone has. Just…Goddamn it.” He turned around and began scrubbing his dishes. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. They’d seen her. Big fucking deal. The picture didn’t show any more than a bikini would.

  “Man, it’s not like we’d make a play for her now that we know you’re dating her.” Mike took a bite out of his toast. “Especially after you saved my ass.”

  Cash blew out a breath and faced them again. He slapped Joey’s shoulder. “Ease up on the Johnnie Walker talk. That’s still a little raw.”

  “That’s what she said,” Mike joked.

  Cash shot him a dark stare.

  Mike held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Kidding. Kidding. Seriously, though, you’re not exactly a sensitive guy. How’d you hook up with her?”

  Cash rubbed the back of his neck as he headed for the stairs. “She likes my dark side.” He pulled his cell phone out again and texted Siena. Told the guys about us. U free later?

  “Come on, man. We gotta go.” Tommy held up his keys and rattled them.

  “Oh, right. Almost forgot.” He grabbed his coat and they headed out to the car. “How long’s this going to take?”

  “Not long.” Tommy drove through town in silence.

  He glanced at Cash a few times, and when he turned in the opposite direction of his brother’s house and headed toward Randall’s Island, Cash fisted his hands in his coat pockets.

  “What the hell, Tom?”

  “Chief Weber said I had to do it, so don’t give me shit.” He stared straight ahead, his dark hair poking out from beneath his knit hat. He gripped the steering wheel tightly with his gloved hands and shot a glance at Cash.

  “Regan? Really, Tom? You didn’t think that maybe you should clue me in on this?” He didn’t know if he would have taken the step to see Regan on his own or not, but he hated the idea of the chief forcing it on him, and he hated Tommy agreeing to it behind his back even more.

  Cash’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and read a text from Siena.

  I’m never free. I cost ice cream or hot chocolate. Xox.

  Cash texted back. Cheap date. I’ll call after my shift. He thought about adding an X or an O or both, but it felt girlie. He hit send and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

  “Chief Weber was pissed yesterday, Cash. You gotta get this shit under control or you’re going to be on the desk.” Tommy pulled onto the Fire Academy grounds and parked by the office.

  “This is the last thing I want to do today. You know that, right?” Cash shook his head. “Why are we even here?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Chief said to make sure you’re here. That’s it. That’s all the direction I got. You’re here. I did my part. Come on. Let’s get this shit over with.”

  They found Ari Regan in the office, sitting with his feet up on the desk, blue baseball cap covering his bald head. He smiled when they walked through the door, flashing bright white, crooked front teeth, which looked even brighter against his olive complexion. He lifted his square chin.

  “Tommy and Cash.” He didn’t move to greet them, didn’t offer them a seat. His smile remained, and to anyone who didn’t know him, they’d think he was happy to see them by that dashing smile.

  Cash knew better. He saw the gears of Ari Regan’s brain working in his dark stare. Regan—always Regan, never Ari—had obscenely large biceps, especially for a guy who was only about five ten. He looked like he’d swallowed two small watermelons that planted themselves in his arms, second only to his thickly muscled shoulders and broad chest. Tattoos slid out from beneath his tight sleeves. He wore a watch on his left hand and a silver chain around his neck. Aviator sunglasses perched above the rim of his hat.

  “Regan,” Cash said with a narrow gaze.

  Regan glanced at his watch, his smile fading. “Sit.” He rose to his feet as Cash and Tommy sat across the desk from him, a tactic Cash should have expected and had almost forgotten. Regan came around to where they sat and leaned against the desk, spreading his legs out, one enormous foot in front of each of them. His black cargo pants stretched tight around his powerful thighs. He lifted the brim of his hat, then settled it above his eyes again.

  “Tell me why you’re here.” He locked dark eyes on Cash and crossed his arms.

  Cash shook his head. He was in no mood for games, and the crappy part was that he knew Ari Regan didn’t play games. He was dead serious, and the answer, You know damn well why I’m here, wouldn’t get Cash anything more than a scowl and harsher treatment than whatever Regan had in mind.

  “Because Tommy dragged my ass here without my consent.” Cash slid a deadpan stare at Tommy.

  “Hey, man. I just do what the chief tells me to.”

  Regan’s eyes never wavered from Cash’s.

  “Cut the shit. You’re wasting my time, and I don’t have a lot of it.”

  Cash leaned his elbows on his thighs, fisting his hands. He cocked his head to the side and forced his clenched jaw to unhinge enough to speak. “Apparently, I’m taking risks and I guess I’m here for you to beat that need out of me.”

  Regan smiled and leaned back, arms still locked across his chest. “Risky business. This is going to be some fun shit, but first, Ryder, as I recall, you’re Mr. Prepared. You call people on risky stuff. Want to give me the dirt, or do we have to play games to get there?”

  In his peripheral vision, Cash saw Tommy rubbing his hands on his thighs, then crossing his arms and uncrossing them.

  “Can you let Tommy go? This isn’t his issue.”

  Regan looked at Tommy, then back at Cash.

  “He stays.”

  Fuck. The last time Cash was at the training center was when he was tasked with bringing a rookie down to be broken of his fear by Regan, and Cash had to remain there for each of the poor guy’s humiliating sessions. Two weeks later, the rookie quit. Cash wasn’t a quitter, and he sure as hell wasn’t a rookie. He could take whatever Regan wanted to throw at him. He just didn’t want to be responsible for Tommy going through the same shit.

  “Couple weeks ago I lost a guy. Beams blocked my way. I wanted to make the rescue, and the guys dragged me out. End of story.” Tommy was one of those guys. Tommy probably saved his life that day, but Cash didn’t care. Someone else lost his.

  “If that was the end of the story, then you wouldn’t be sitting in my office right now, would you?” Regan uncrossed his arms and leaned his palms on the edge of the desk. “Seems to me like you do want to play games, and, Ryder, I love games.”

  “Regan, let’s get your torture over with.” Cash sat up straight, holding Regan’s stare.

  “My torture? Let me ask you something, Ryder. Do you remember what happened seven years ago with Chuck Tooler? Let’s talk torture.” Regan rose to his feet.

  Cash’s chest tightened. He remembered what happened to Chuck. In gruesome detail.

  “Chuck Tooler had been with his unit for what? Six years?” He slid along the desk until he was right in front of Cash. “Remember why he ran back into the building after it was evacuated?” Regan paused. “I asked you a question, Ryder. Remember what happened to hotshot Tooler?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” The words felt heavy leaving his lungs. He did not want to relive Tooler’s demise. Hell, if he never thought about it again, it would be soon enough.

  “Tell me why he ran back in.”

  The room was silent save for the sound of Cash’s blood rushing in his ears. He clenched his jaw and shot a glance at Tommy, who looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. Cash pulled his shoulders back and sat up straight, out of respect for Tooler; that’s what he told himself. The truth was, he was warding off the idea that he was anything like Tooler.

  He rubbed the tattoo on his left arm, remembering when he and Tommy had gone to get it shortly after Chuck had been swallowed by the fire—he’d added another piece after Samuel died. Cash had no idea what the meaning behind the tattoo was, but the minute he’d seen the image, he’d felt the pain of Tooler’s burns
, the reminder that the beast—the fire—was stronger than any one of them but not stronger than the team of them. The top of the image reminded him of the thick eye of the beast—and the screams that came from Tooler’s lungs. The markings at the bottom of the tattoo that looked like long, pointed, spidery legs, were reminders of how fast the beast had turned on Tooler and swallowed him whole. He only now realized that after Samuel died and he’d added another layer to the tattoo, he’d also blocked its meaning out completely. He’d stopped looking at it because it was so painful a reminder. How the hell could I have blocked that out?

  “Spit it out, Ryder,” Regan urged.

  “He said there was another guy in there and it was his job to get him out.” Cash’s mind flashed back to the day before, when he disregarded his buddy’s warning and then the warning of the ventilation team. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, then rubbed the thighs of his jeans, pressing hard just to feel that he was grounded, safe. Not Tooler.

  “Tell me what you felt when he ran in. Tell me how your body reacted,” Regan pressed, making his fucking point loud and clear.

  Cash could smell the smoke. He could feel the heat of the flames, could feel the fear, the twist of his gut. It’s out of control. We gotta get him. “Chief…” His goddamn voice was shaking. Aw, shit, so were his hands. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Weber wouldn’t let us go after him.”

  “Not what I asked. I want to hear what you felt, Ryder.”

  Cash narrowed his eyes, breathing hard. There was no slowing down his heartbeat. Fucking Regan.

  “You see your buddy run into the fire.” Regan leaned forward, lowering his voice to just above a venom-filled whisper. “You know the upper floors are about to crash down on your buddy, on the guy who took you and Tom under his wing, and that beast is going to burn every inch of his body.” An inch from Cash’s face, Regan’s eyes went almost black, his voice filled with anger. “What the hell is going on in your gut, Ryder?”

  “I fucking wanted to go in after him,” Cash yelled. “We all did, but the guys from the second engine held us back. No one got in. No one.” He pushed to his feet and paced the concrete floor, anger seething through his body like poison.