Up in Flames (Firehouse Three Book 1)

by Sidney Bristol

  Maybe Oscar was out with his wife? What if something had happened to them? The way things were going lately, her paranoid mind was in hyper drive.

  One more try wouldn’t hurt, and if he still wasn’t answering maybe she’d go lick her wounds at Everly’s. Jesse didn’t want to take her problems to her friend. Things would be weird, what with her and Drake being…involved? Was Jesse involved with Hunter still? She didn’t know anymore.

  The front door jerked open.

  “Jesse.” Oscar stared at her, brows up. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just checking in. You didn’t show up to Justin’s meeting yesterday and no one had heard from you. Everything okay?” Any other job and this would be a strange occurrence, but deep down she still felt like their crew was family and they had the dysfunction to prove it.

  “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry I missed it.” He stepped back and gestured inside the house. “You want to come in?”

  “Sure. I kind of wanted to talk to you.” She pushed her hands into her pockets. “I need some advice and I was hoping I could pick your brain.”

  “What’s up, Jesse?”

  He said her name…weird. With emphasis that didn’t make sense.

  Was something going on? Had she come at a bad time?

  Jesse glanced around the house, taking in the complete lack of toys, the empty counters. The place looked…almost barren. Kind of empty, despite the furniture.

  “Where’s the kids?” she asked.

  “Marie left me.” Oscar stared at the floor, his face lined with age and anger.

  “Oh…” Jesse opened and closed her mouth. What did she say to that? Shit, had she ever shoved her foot down her mouth.

  “Yeah, she said I was the problem, that she couldn’t put up with me anymore. You’d think she’d appreciate how hard I work, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing ever was.”

  “I’m so sorry, Oscar.”

  “She took the kids, too. Won’t let me see them. How’s that even legal? And you know what a lawyer would cost?” Oscar paced away from her, turned and pinned her with angry eyes.

  “I had no idea. There’s got to be something you can do. Right?”

  “There is.” He reached behind him and she just stood there, staring, as he drew a gun and pointed it at her. “Benjamin? Ben where the hell are you?”

  “What’s with all the yelling?” A second man, the spitting image of Nicholas, walked down the hall. He’d cut his hair since the last time she’d seen him. His blue workpants and button-down shirt were oddly clean for his usual appearance.

  Benjamin.

  Oscar.

  Oh, no…

  “Who the hell is this?” Benjamin looked at her, a frown on his face.

  “Ben, you remember Jesse? She’s going to help us get more explosives.” Oscar shifted his stance.

  “Oh, really?” A slow, predatory smile spread over Benjamin’s face, one that did not bode well for Jesse. Not at all. “Nice to see you again, Jesse.”

  Her heart pounded against her ribs, her body went cold and hot from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wanted to run, hide, get away from them. This was bad. Bad. Bad.

  “Oscar, Oscar, please, let’s talk about this, okay?” She held up her hands.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. We need more explosives and you’re our key to getting them.” Oscar thrust the gun toward her and she flinched, though there was still a good five feet of space between them.

  She edged toward the door. Poor Marie. What had happened with her?

  “No, you don’t.” Benjamin grabbed her wrist and hauled her away from the door. “This way.”

  “Oscar, there are no more explosives. We used everything the other night. You were there.” She should have seen this shouldn’t she? Hunter had told her it would be someone close to them. Someone who knew how they worked.

  “You were able to get some last minute. Get more now.”

  The two men blocked her into the dead-end kitchen.

  There wasn’t anyone else.

  Didn’t Oscar know that?

  She’d called up everyone she could think of. Demo explosives weren’t exactly something you went down to a store and bought. It was a regulated industry. With paperwork and a lot of time.

  If she didn’t get some, would they hurt her? Kill her?

  Jesse swallowed.

  Who could she call? There had to be someone she hadn’t hit up yet.

  “Oscar, please listen to me?” She leaned against the counter while her knees knocked together.

  “No. Call someone. Anyone. Now.” Oscar pulled the hammer back on the six-shooter.

  Oh, God.

  Okay.

  She had to call someone.

  Jesse pulled out her phone.

  “Speaker. Now,” Benjamin barked.

  “Okay, okay.” Her hands shook. She dialed a guy she knew, one that might be able to help her.

  The phone rang. And rang. Then went to voicemail.

  Shit.

  “Jesse, stop dicking around,” Oscar growled.

  “I’m not! You think this is easy?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let me text a few people, but Oscar, this might not work out.”

  “Man, just get some more already.” Benjamin shoved Oscar’s shoulder.

  Jesse flinched. It would be so easy for the gun to go off… Accidents happened.

  “Do it, Jesse,” Oscar demanded.

  “Okay, okay.”

  “You should have lined up product sooner.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Sooner? I did what I could as soon as I saw an opportunity. What the hell have you done?” Oscar glared at Ben.

  “I don’t stand around, whining about my job, that’s for sure. I pull my weight.”

  “I’ve done everything asked of me, and more.”

  “You ain’t done shit yet.”

  She pulled up a few contacts and fired off a few texts.

  Neither Benjamin or Oscar were paying her any mind.

  Jesse had to chance it.

  Had to drop by friends before heading to Arthur. Stuck here. Tied up. Need to talk to him soon about breakfast and pictures.

  17.

  Hunter wiped the sweat off his brow and stared down the street at the blockade of police cars. Man, being on hand for big events sucked sometimes. No one had anticipated this many people showing up for this, either, which was why it hadn’t been on their schedule.

  At least the rally was more like an orderly mob of people waving signs and flags. Nothing violent. No threats. Just a hell of a lot of people. He didn’t even know who they were here about. Something about someone trying to get re-elected to Congress and Hunter hadn’t the foggiest idea who.

  His phone vibrated.

  Again.

  There wasn’t anything that said he couldn’t look at it, but chances were it wasn’t Jesse and he wanted to pretend it was.

  Reality sucked sometimes.

  When he got off shift tomorrow he’d do…something. Flowers. Dog treats. Groveling. One way or another, he’d make it up to Jesse. If Abby was right, and he was starting to think she was, then he’d need to…make a grand gesture. Whatever the hell that meant. For the last bit of Abby’s spit-balling he’d sort of glazed over.

  He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the phone, peering at the screen.

  Three messages.

  Damn.

  His mouth dried up.

  All of them from Jesse.

  He clicked the first one, which was a contact record. It froze his phone for the longest thirty seconds of his life.

  Oscar?

  Wasn’t that one of the guys she worked with?

  What the hell?

  He backed out into the messages and…his knees nearly gave way.

  Had to drop by friends before heading to Arthur. Stuck here. Tied up. Need to talk to him soon about breakfast and pictures.

  Why was she at this Oscar’s place? That was the guy wh
o worked for her brothers. If she was stuck there, and wanted to talk about the pictures?

  He had a bad feeling about this.

  “Hey, man, get your head out of your ass.” Drake elbowed Hunter and he nearly dropped the phone.

  “Fuck off,” Hunter snapped.

  “Shit, what the hell?”

  Hunter glanced up.

  Hadn’t he seen Arthur around the block at some point?

  “Seriously, dude, the phone? Now?” Drake stared at him.

  Yeah, so Hunter had given Drake hell earlier over texting Everly. At least he assumed it was her. This was different. If Jesse was in trouble, if she knew something about the missing C4, it was the kind of trouble that could cost lives.

  Hunter couldn’t waste words explaining what was happening. Besides, it wasn’t like Hunter had kept his friend apprised of the blow-by-blow events concerning the criminal investigation into the explosives theft.

  He took off down the road at a jog, phone pressed to his ear. As much as he wanted to call Jesse, he couldn’t. Arthur needed to know first.

  “Hunter—?”

  “Jesse sent me a weird text. I think…I think their guy, Oscar, is involved. She said something about the pictures? Needing to talk to you?”

  “What? Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. Her text was cryptic. She said she’s stuck at a friend’s house and then she sent me a contact record for Oscar.”

  “Fuck. I’ve been trying to get hold of that guy. Send it to me. Has she made contact again?”

  “No, just a bunch of other, weird, gibberish texts. I don’t know. I called you first.”

  “I’m going to text her. Forward me what she’s sent you. Stay where you are.”

  The line cut off.

  The hell he was staying where he was.

  He paused long enough to shoot off a text.

  I talked to Arthur. Where are you? See you soon?

  “What’s up with you, man?” Drake followed close on Hunter’s heels.

  Hunter stopped and turned. Drake nearly ran into him.

  “I think…someone’s taken Jesse.” Those words…said out loud? They chilled Hunter’s blood.

  Drake stared, his mouth working in silence.

  “I’ve got to go.” Hunter turned and jogged down the street.

  The firehouse was a few miles away. He could run that distance. Be in his Jeep and on the road—where? He had no idea where she was. If she was still at the address she’d sent him.

  His phone vibrated once more. He skidded to a stop and yanked the phone out.

  On the road.

  Shit.

  If they were on the move. That couldn’t be good.

  Are you downtown? I think we’re going to swing that way.

  Hunter’s mouth dried up.

  He didn’t have to go to her.

  She was coming to him.

  Hunter spun around, jabbing at Arthur’s contact.

  “What?” Arthur answered before the first ring finished.

  “They’re coming downtown.”

  Jesse held onto the side of the van. There weren’t chairs or anything that could be a seat. They’d cleared it all out to make room for the barrels of accelerant and the rest of the explosive device. She’d pleaded, begged and even cried, but neither man had listened to her. She’d done enough crying that Oscar and Benjamin were more than a little pissed at her, but they’d finally decided to go ahead with whatever they were doing. Oscar didn’t seem too happy about any of this. Almost like…this wasn’t his part.

  The clunky, metal bracelet on her wrist was cutting into her skin. Ben had put that fun little thing on her earlier with a stern warning. She couldn’t think about that though. What it was. Not right now.

  “Okay, the plan, one more time,” Ben said slowly.

  “I don’t like this.” Oscar sat shotgun, his back to Jesse.

  “I park. You stay with the van. I’ll tell you where I find us a spot. You come to me, got it?” Ben had listed the same events three times over.

  She considered turning her phone on again, shooting off another text to Detective Long, but she didn’t dare. Not after Ben’s offhanded comment that the bracelet could be activated by remote. For all she knew, a cell phone could set it off. But…the cops needed to know about this.

  They took another turn and she braced her feet so she didn’t topple into the bomb.

  If they weren’t careful, they’d blow the van up en route to wherever they wanted to take it.

  “Shit!” Benjamin spat more curses she couldn’t hear.

  The van skidded to a stop so hard the liquid in the barrels sloshed around.

  “What the hell?” Oscar sounded worried.

  She peered up, between the front seats.

  A line of police cars had the street blocked off. More than a few uniforms stood on the other side, guns aimed at the van.

  Oh, God…

  Okay, so she’d hoped her texts and keeping her phone on would do some good, but she hadn’t expected this.

  A stray bullet, a car ramming the van, almost anything could set the explosives off. From the look of things, Benjamin and Oscar had supplemented her C4 with a large, homemade bomb. Hunter’s comments about the warehouse made sense now. It was a test site. Their live run of what this bomb was supposed to be capable of.

  “Get us out of here,” Oscar yelled.

  Benjamin pulled his Glock out of wherever he’d stashed it and pointed it out the window. He squeezed off a shot with zero aim and shifted the van into reverse. An answering blast of gunfire burst the stillness. Benjamin howled and the van lurched, building momentum as he floored it.

  The van shuddered and shook, bouncing over something.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Jesse screamed and covered her head.

  “God damn it! I’m shot. Oh, God, I’m shot.” Benjamin rolled out of the driver’s seat holding his arm. Blood dripped onto the floor, soaked the man’s clothing. There was even a bit of spatter on his face.

  Jesse stared. Bile coated the back of her throat. She was going to be sick.

  “Oh my God.” Oscar hunched in the space between the seats, eyes wide, staring at Benjamin.

  “What the fuck did they do?” Benjamin settled on his ass, more blood streaking his clothing. He was wedged between the bomb and driver’s seat. Not exactly a great spot.

  “That had to be the tires. They knew we were coming, man. Those were tire strips or something. This was not supposed to happen like this. Oh, God.” Oscar twisted, looking out one window then the other. His face was ashen, eyes wide. “This wasn’t what I signed up for, man.”

  “You shut the fuck up. This is exactly what you signed up for.” Benjamin kicked out with a foot, hitting Oscar in the knee.

  “No, it’s not. No, it’s not!” Oscar ducked. “All I was supposed to do was get the explosives. That’s it.”

  “Wake up, Oscar, this was your part all along.”

  “No.” Oscar shook his head.

  “I’m the one that’s not supposed to be here. Fuck.”

  The van rolled a bit more, then stopped. The sound of the metal rims grinding against the pavement was an indicator this was where they were making their last stand. There was no getting away.

  “Benjamin Salazar. Oscar Garza. Get out of the van, now.”

  The voice was distorted by the loudspeaker or bullhorn or whatever they were using, but she recognized it.

  Arthur Long.

  Jesse swallowed and blinked away the tears.

  She needed to get out of here.

  Before things went bad. Or worse. They were already bad.

  She scooted toward the back end of the van a little bit at a time.

  If she rolled out of the van, would the cops shoot her? Could she get away? Did she risk it?

  They hadn’t said much about the bracelet, except that it was an explosive device. Still, neither of them struck her as bomb-making experts. Oscar wasn’t even part of her demo team. H
e worked with Justin. What if the bracelet wasn’t anything more than scrap metal? Was it worth the risk of finding out?

  Her hands and knees shook. Never in her life would she have expected this from Oscar, of all people. She wanted to ask him why, to understand, but this was her stop. She wanted off the crazy train and this could be her only opportunity.

  “Jesse!” Oscar yelled her name.

  She dove for the back door.

  The van shook.

  She got her hand around the latch.

  One of the men grasped the back of her jeans and hauled her away from the doors.

  Her fingers slid off the handle, but not before she popped the latch and the rear door swung open.

  Yup, more cops back there.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Oscar dragged her into the front of the van with Benjamin, the six-shooter pressed to her skull.

  In the crowd, staring in through the doors of the van, was a familiar face…

  Hunter.

  Why were they letting him this close? Why wasn’t he far from here? If the bomb went off… She didn’t want to think about that, but her brain was already building out the explosion, the potential damage. They’d rigged the warehouse at crucial points in the structure to bring it down. It took a lot less explosives to do that, when they were properly placed. As far as she could tell, this strike, this attempt, was a single explosive device. It would take more to have the same kind of impact. But with this many people so close… It would still be devastating.

  Hunter needed to get out of there.

  “You!” Oscar roared in her ear. “You did this! This is all your fault. I should let you out there, then blow your arm off.”

  She shook at his words and the anger behind them. Oscar wasn’t rational. He wasn’t the man she recognized. And he most definitely believed the device on her arm would kill her. Benjamin huddled behind the driver’s seat, his arm cradled to his chest. He’d recovered his gun and held it in his left hand now. His grip was loose, unsure.

  “Start the timer,” Oscar said to the other man.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Benjamin kicked out toward them, his lips curling in a sneer.

  “Do it,” Oscar snapped.