Dallas Fire & Rescue: Relentlessly Mine (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Base Branch Series Book 11)

by Megan Mitcham

  Gannon hung to the edge of the yard and worked his way around, looking for the utter devastation he fully expected on the wooden sides of the house. The farther he walked, the more the back of his neck itched. He turned to check the scene, but the wind picked up, carrying a hint of charred wood with it. His feet carried him to the back of the house to her damn bedroom balcony.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Ragged edges of fire-eaten beams shined like onyx in the sunlight. They failed to meet and form the corner of the structure. The pattern created a jagged triangle of destruction from midway up the wall on the first floor to the roof of the second story. His stomach hardened. Blood steamed his veins.

  As usual, the Combine police had their info bass-ackwards.

  This wasn’t right. It was a piss-poor arsonist or an attempted murder made to look like arson. One hitch in that scenario. Margo was an adult now. She wouldn’t live here anymore, not with all the ghosts.

  His pulse slowed to a manageable beat. Regardless of Margo’s involvement, if his brother had set the fire …

  Gannon’s fists ached.

  “Have you come to finish the job?” Margo Foster’s sweet voice had hardened. Still, it managed to drown and revive him all at once.

  What would the sight of her do? Blond silky hair. Doe-like blue eyes. Sweet smile.

  Pulled from a mission ready to fly from DC to the heart of Mexico, Gannon was dressed for battle, yet ill prepared to duel with the love of his life.

  He braced as best as he could and turned.

  2

  Always biting off more than she could chew. Her mother always told her one day she’d choke. Well, mother knows best.

  From the backside, thirty feet away, Margo’s palms sweated. Up close … her heart threatened to implode and suck her entire being into a black hole with it. She’d be a medical mystery. The first of her species to go that way. Why had she thought she could confront Gannon Lee? Since the last time she’d laid eyes on him, he’d grown a foot taller and probably sixty pounds of work hardened muscle broader. As a teenager, he had been overwhelmingly gorgeous. As a man, he simply overwhelmed.

  Too late to turn back now.

  “Have you come to finish the job?” Margo’s voice held out, landing her well-placed words around his kidneys. The wall of testosterone and muscles flinched. A small, hollow victory.

  A tan T-shirt clung to his body like she had a lifetime ago. Desert digital camouflage pants hugged an ass and thighs that put her firefighter buddies to shame; something damn near impossible for all the gear they hauled on a daily basis.

  Gannon pulled in a deep breath, expanding his width and height an inch or so more, making her hate and envy his shirt. Then his boots did an about-face.

  No amount of prep could have fortified her.

  Gannon Lee, the man, devastated.

  His tender lips were still full and too kissable, his nose proud, and his cheekbones made to be captured on an artist’s masterpiece. Gannon’s jaw had thickened to the point it no longer seemed capable of hosting a smile. Yet it looked perfectly suited for crushing bone. Those eyes … The always expressive and deep blue windows had frosted over into an unreadable visage.

  Margo clenched her fists, summoning the strength to keep from running away or throwing her arms around Gannon and refusing to let go.

  “What are you doing here?” His sweet voice had been swapped for that of a drill sergeant.

  Good. It irritated the shit out of her and chased away those stupid, youthful notions of happily ever after and unshakable love.

  “I live here.” Her hands found her hips. “What’s your excuse? Your brother tried to kill me. Have you come to finish the job?”

  The calm unreachable blue of his irises ignited into an inferno too intense to look at directly. Large hands clenched into white-knuckled battering rams. His full lips pressed into a line. Margo fought the urge to step back. She couldn't help but gulp the saliva that pooled.

  “You were in the house at the time of the fire?”

  “Yes.” She tried for confident, but the word left her lips as a whisper.

  “Motherfuck.” Gannon turned away.

  The symbolic gesture cut deep. Margo wrapped her arms across her chest and hugged tight, willing the strength she’d cultivated over the years to hold her together for a few more minutes.

  He walked toward the house and leaned in, as though examining the structure. “Is this still your room?”

  She didn’t want to answer. It would sound pathetic, but if the blood pressure cuff fit. “Yes.”

  “Does Elise live here too?” He asked the next question almost immediately after she answered the first. As if he’d known the reply before she’d given it.

  “Sometimes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means if she has a steady boyfriend, she’s at his place.”

  “Does she have one now?”

  Heat scaled Margo’s neck. Why was he asking all these questions? Better yet, why was she entertaining them?

  “Yes,” she growled.

  “Do you?” Gannon chose that moment to remember she existed. He turned and poured all his intensity on her.

  “Why do you care?” She dropped her arms, puffed out her chest, and glared.

  “Have you fought with anyone lately? Have any enemies?” The son of a bitc— No, she would never call him that. Never. The jerk ignored her question. He looked over her head, surveying the area around the house.

  “What are you getting at?” Despite her need to self-preserve, she took a step forward to draw his attention.

  Begrudgingly, he gave it over. “I’m trying to find out who would want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” Her right eyebrow stretched her face and probably offered him a glimpse at the newly forming wrinkles at the center of her forehead. Great. “Nobody wants to hurt me.”

  “You said my brother tried to kill you.” One hand hiked to his thickly carved waist.

  Margo licked her lips, praying it wasn’t too obvious that she’d like to have him for dessert, and tried to focus on the conversation. “I was being dramatic. Trying to piss you off.”

  “So you don’t think my brother tried to kill you?”The hand dropped from his waist and flipped in question.

  “Do you?”

  “No.” Gannon’s gaze swung to the charred corner of her house. His wide hand clamped the back of his neck and squeezed. “I don’t know. Griffin has always been rash, but this … If he did …” The muscles in his jaw flexed, defining a jaw that looked like it could deflect a bullet.

  “Grif is always nice to me.”

  His gaze snapped back to her. “You see him often?”

  What was that, jealousy? Margo released the notion without much examination because it was nothing more than wishful thinking. She shook her head. “When I do, it hurts. He seems to know that, and he deals with me … gently.” That earned her a grimace. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the past, so she steered back on track. “You don’t really think someone meant to hurt me?”

  “No.”

  The tension in Margo’s traps eased … Gannon’s jaw did that defend the universe thing again, contradicting his answer. He drew a deep breath. She held hers.

  “I think whoever set this fire meant to kill you.”

  On that arctic gust, the anger, heart sickness, and confusion flash froze inside Margo. Her head jerked as though she was a turtle sucking back into her shell, but this man gave her no escape. He took two giant strides in her direction. She should’ve retreated, only her body and mind refused any attempt at teamwork.

  His pheromone-rich scent caressed her cheek and dealt the sweetest deathblow. It held a hint of familiarity, yet the draw had grown hooks. Was that gunpowder?

  “Why would someone want to kill me?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Gannon’s nostrils flared. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek phone, and dialed.

  Yet? Like he inte
nded to hang around and find out. Right. Gannon Lee hadn’t set foot here in so long; she’d expected Jesus to return before he did. Nothing could keep him here for long. Especially not his wayward notion that someone was trying to hurt her. She knew everyone in this place. While she harbored secret fantasies that would cause some of them to choke on their morning bacon, not one of them would come close to her intent of murder list. No way could she end up on someone’s list.

  “Elvin, have y’all left the station?”

  Margo’s knees gave a little at his slight drawl. He’d learned to mask it over the years. Too bad. The things that man’s slow, steady talking could do to her. On second thought, hallelujah, it had dulled.

  “Good. Have Griffin at the Foster estate at six tomorrow morning.” That yanked Margo back to the here and now. She narrowed her gaze at Gannon, but he looked at the area over her head and continued. “I don’t care. You can bring him or I will. Guaranteed, if I do it, he’ll need medical attention.” So things hadn’t eased between the brothers in Gannon’s absence. “Don’t worry about why. Just have him here.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and raked his gaze over her top to toes.

  She ignored the impulse to fold her arms and cover her breasts. “Why do you want Griffin here in the morning? I won’t be here.”

  “Even better.”

  Margo pressed her fingers to her mouth to keep from screaming, “What the fuck!” It wasn’t very lady-like, and it wouldn't get her anywhere with this beefed-up version of a guy she used to know; a guy she thought about every day, a guy she still loved … despite everything between them.

  The corner of his mouth turned up and slayed her where she stood.

  “I’ve missed that,” he whispered.

  A long time ago, he used to goad her or embarrass her to get her to slap her hand over her mouth. A long time ago, she’d do it just to see his smile.

  “I miss it too,” she breathed.

  He studied her face for a long time. His gaze traveled back to her partially covered mouth again and again. She didn’t know anything about the man he’d become, what he did for a living, or who he’d loved since her. Nothing. Yet she wanted him to kiss her.

  Instead, he dragged a hand over his face and rocked on his heels. “Do you have a pistol? Better yet, do you have a friend you can stay with tonight? I don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to come back this soon after but better to be safe. Also, you shouldn’t be alone until we figure out what’s going on.”

  “First, I have a gun. Don’t tempt me to use it on you. I’m not staying with a friend tonight, and I’m not cowering in a corner. I’m going in to change clothes, and then I’m headed to work.”

  “Where do you work at night in Combine?”

  The accusation, or maybe it was uncertainty, in his voice irritated her just enough to fire back. “Silver Stud and Taut Tits on I-175. I’m due on stage in”—she looked at her pretend watch—“two hours. I’d better hustle. It takes quite a while to get on all that makeup. The costume doesn’t take long at all. No need to show up in the morning. I’ll probably still be giving my regulars lap dances.”

  Margo turned her sneakers toward the front of the house. Before she took a step, Gannon’s hand wrapped around hers and pulled her up short. She stood in stunned silence at the contact. His skin warmed and soothed and burned like fire all at once. Instinct urged her to pull away, but her heart had her wrapping her fingers around his and holding on for dear life.

  “I’m sorry.” He sighed.

  Was he sorry for breaking her heart or just the comment?

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll follow you there if that’s where you work. I’ll follow you anywhere, Margo.”

  If only that were true. Moisture gathered in her eyes. She blinked furiously and refused to turn around.

  “I just want to make sure you get there safely.” His deep voice and caring worked on her resolve.

  “Silver Studs and Taut Tits doesn’t exist. I’m a paramedic for Dallas Fire and Rescue at Station 58. It’s forty minutes into town. Don’t follow me. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about bringing your brother by in the morning either.” Margo released Gannon’s hand.

  “What’s done is done.” She turned and walked away, leaving half of her heart in the process.

  3

  “What the fuck are those for?” Griffin slammed the Town Car’s passenger door and stomped toward the house.

  “Morning to you too, sunshine.” Gannon placed the last of the boards on the network of scaffolding. His shirt clung to him as though he’d worn it in the shower before he headed to the contractor’s depot outside of Dallas and back to the estate. The local hardware store either didn’t stock what he’d needed or they hadn’t wanted to serve a Lee. Probably the latter, since the owner had made a comment about the stolen truck he was driving. Because a Lee couldn’t earn anything nice. Assholes. He should buy the place out from under the ole geezer to prove his point, but it wouldn’t do any good. There was no changing a warped mind.

  “Turn off my headlights, will you?” Gannon placed a piece of plywood between two metal poles.

  “How long have you been here?” Elvin hoisted himself out of the car and eased closer in his full suit, blazer, and tie ensemble.

  “Four.” He shook the metal frame. When the rusty paint-and-stucco-spattered scaffolding held, he scuttled down the two-story maze and held out his hand for a grease soaked bag his friend offered. “Please tell me there’s pie in this bag.”

  “Now, how come you can have pie and I can’t?” Elvin huffed.

  “How many sets of scaffolding have you constructed this morning?” He snatched the bag and peeked inside.

  “Shut your mouth, boy,” his friend scolded.

  “A breakfast quiche and a slice of pie. Ooh-ee.” His mouth watered just thinking about it.

  Grif slammed his second door of the morning and joined them. “You didn’t answer my question. What the fuck is going on, and why am I here?”

  “You’re here to help me repair the damage to this house,” Gannon said.

  “The hell I am. I didn’t have a goddamn thing to do with this.” Grif folded his arms across his chest and leaned back onto the sawhorse Gannon had slapped together by the shine of his headlights.

  “Where were you at the time of the fire?” he asked again.

  “I told you before. I was at home on the couch, watching Game of Thrones and eating pizza.” His brother told the lie with more conviction today and more detail. It didn’t bode well.

  “Time for you to go, Elvin. I’ll bring him home this evening.” Gannon nodded at his friend.

  “The hell he is going to leave me here, and the hell you’re bringing me home.” Griffin bowed himself off the sawhorse like a cobra. “In case you’ve forgotten, little brother, I don’t need you to look after me.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I bailed your ass out of police custody less than twelve hours ago.”

  Elvin took the opportunity to ease to his car and make a quick getaway.

  “I’d have gotten out anyway.” Grif’s shaggy blond hair flipped toward the sound of the retreating Town Car. He tossed his fists into the air. “They can’t hold me. They don’t have any evidence. Just like you can’t hold me here.” Well-worn boots started their retreat.

  “Margo was inside this house, in her old bedroom, while this fire burned through the walls, Griffin.” Gannon’s normal cool tone vanished in his fear and rage. What if she hadn’t gotten out? What if the woman he loved had died not knowing how much he still loved her?

  Griffin stopped in his tracks and turned back. “Look, I’m sorry she was in there. Really. I know what she means to you, but for the tenth time, I didn’t start the fire.”

  Gannon cleared the distance between them, and Grif’s hands shot up in defense. He’d never hit his brother, but he wasn’t above it. Not right now, for sure. His face lowered until it was even with Grif’s.

  “I’m going to ask you one
last time. Where were you the night of the fire? If you say anything about some stupid TV show and pizza, I’m not going to be held accountable for my reaction … because I know you’re lying.”

  Sweat broke out on Grif’s pale forehead. Gannon searched his brother’s eyes, willing the truth out of him. Honestly, he hated what they’d become but hadn’t a clue how to fix them. The story of his life when it came to relationships.

  “The pizza and show weren’t lies. And it’s not a stupid show. You’d love it if you’d give it a chance.”

  Gannon’s dissent rumbled up his throat.

  His brother stepped back and held his hands up. “I wasn’t at home.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You can. You just don’t want to.”

  “If Elvin finds out, he’ll bury my body under piles of paperwork.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Grif?”

  “Nothing bad, I swear.” His fingers interlaced and sat atop his head. He paced several small circles and finally stopped a few feet away. “I’m seeing Ms. Layla’s daughter.”

  “Holy shit.” Gannon propped on the sawhorse and stared stupidly at his brother. “You just messing around with her or what?”

  Grif bowed to twice his size. Bruce Banner to Hulk in a flash. “No. I’m done messing around, period. Liana is everything.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared into the cotton candy sky. “I love her.”

  “Holy shit.” Gannon wheezed. Layla was Elvin’s woman. Liana was Layla’s daughter from her first and only husband who died when Liana was a baby. The moment Elvin had come into their lives, he’d taken on the role of provider and dad and never looked back.