I’m only rushing through these drills so I can get to the bottom of what Dawn might be up to. After the nights we spend with Ember, she should be the only thing on my mind. But knowing that Dawn fell off the radar, I’m sure she’s up to her old tricks. Her silence hangs over me like a dark cloud, ready to burst and bring more chaos and disorder into my life.
I pick up the hose from the pavement. We’re on the west side of the firehouse, so even though it’s the middle of winter, the sun beats down on us as we stand out here in forty-five pounds of firefighter gear. From the corner of my eye, Hammer comes out of a side door and stands there as though waiting for one of us to look his way. When Davis says it’s time to pack it in, Hammer saunters over and pulls me aside.
“She’s free all day tomorrow,” he says in a low voice.
“Okay.”
Hammer shakes his head. “Don’t do this, man.”
“Don’t do what?”
“You do this every time, dude.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him.
“I can tell you’re ready to turn tail. The second a woman is really into both of us, you want to bolt.”
“We’re talking about Ember here. She’s not right for us.”
Hammer’s jaw clicks as he glares at me and waits.
“Okay, she might be right for us,” I admit. “But look around. Check out where we are. I’m not saying I don’t want her. I just want us to be careful. We have the chief on one side, and the threat of Dawn going hell-bitch on the other. Shit’s way too complicated as it is.”
“Says the man who only wants Ember for sex.”
“That’s not true. I handed over the bracelet, didn’t I?”
Hammer tilts his head and looks at me like I’m missing some obvious point.
“Whatever it is, keep it to yourself,” I tell him. “Boss man’s on his way over.”
Davis makes it to about ten feet from us but doesn’t get a word in. Another emergency call sounds out over the PA system and through Davis’s radio, announcing a motel fire on a street about two miles away.
It’s boots running across the pavement as Hammer and I fall into step right behind Davis to get to our truck. At the moment, there are more important things to deal with. More important and also simpler. Being a firefighter can be one of the purest jobs around.
Run toward the danger.
Save people first.
Reduce damage to property.
Be ready to die.
Accept that not all of us who go in are sure to get out alive.
Other than working my ass off to be the best possible father to Sandy, everything else in my word is riddled with complexities. And relationships are right at the top of the pile. Sure, Ember seems different. The more time we spend with her, the more we enjoy where things are going. But then we get the constant reminder.
We’re temporary.
We have to keep it a secret.
Beyond passing over my bracelet, I can’t see us having a future. So why torture myself by entertaining something that won’t ever happen? I’m not that interested in picking up this conversation where Hammer left off later, but I can tell he won’t give it a rest. As soon as he brings it up again, this is the logic I’ll need to drill into his thick skull.
We enter the garage and step into our gear like the rest of the teams are doing. My mind stills. It always does once a call comes in. The world blurs. Nothing exists but the path to whatever emergency we’re dealing with. Everyone gets on their assigned vehicle, our trucks roll out, and minutes later, we’re parked outside the L-shaped structure, ready to assess the long stretch of rooms and the smoke curling up into the sky.
Wind speed’s an issue today. The smoke twists around itself like a tornado, reaching high above the trees. Adrenaline pumps through my body. The pounding in my ear is deafening, but it’s how it is every time I come face to face with a fire or emergency situation.
A motel clerk runs over to the truck and informs Davis that there may be people still in their rooms. People who may need our help. Once we have a sense of what we’re up against and get our orders, I’m back to that calm contained focus on hauling ass and doing my job.
A middle-aged woman runs out from a narrow walkway and frantically points back at where she came from. “I saw someone start it! A redhead. She threw something in through that window over there!” she shouts, pointing at the area where thick dark smoke is billowing out.
Another guy hurries over from the crowd that’s forming. “This lady’s right. I saw it too. The redhead drove off in a blue and white Camaro afterward.”
Hammer subtly taps me on the shoulder, but he doesn’t need to. I’m already reeling.
Red hair, and a blue and white Camaro.
It has to be Dawn.
But if it’s true, do I tell my lieutenant that they’re talking about my ex-wife?
“Let’s get this fire subdued,” Hammer says. “We can tell him about Dawn during the debrief.”
“Fine. And I’ll get ready for the ‘I told you so’ lecture.”
The motel clerk confirms that no one booked the room where the fire was started. It’s vacant. Unsure of the number of hotel patrons, visitors and workers still in the hotel, Davis assigns most of us to clear each room, puts a couple on hoses, and sends two to the back of the building to vent the room where the fire started.
As I head off with the clearance team, I try to push Dawn from my mind, but a nagging question plays on repeat.
If Dawn really did it, and if she started this fire to get us here, why did she leave?
Is this a trap for me? Is it meant to keep me here while she does God knows what somewhere else?
I don’t like the answers that my mind keeps giving back to me.
20
Ember
I should have stayed in bed today.
A week has passed since the last time I was with Hammer and Deuce. I wake up with a bad feeling deep in my gut, and whenever that happens, I always regret not listening to my inner voice after the fact.
At the fire station, everything is great when the entire fire response team leaves in the afternoon to answer a fire call. Only my dad’s secretary and I are around. I welcome the silence of an empty firehouse, and this afternoon’s no different. An hour after they leave, the mess of new paperwork on my desk is cleared. I fly through most of my to-do list with over half hour to spare before my day is done.
I remember that one of the longstanding firefighters wants me to put in a new requisition for supply hooks in the turnout gear room, and figure I’d get that out of the way before I leave. Locking my desktop screen. I head out to the truck bay, which looks like a ghost town right now. A ghost town with boots on the ground where the firefighters were last standing before they jumped onto their trucks to head to their next dangerous life-saving mission.
I quickly check the room to confirm the number of hooks to order, and as I step into the truck bay again, a pretty redhead I’ve never seen before walks in through one of the doors near the front. If the firefighter staff were around, they’d ask her to use the visitors’ entrance and sign in with one of us at the office. But as I’m here already, I drop the protocol. No one’s here, so she’ll probably just give me the message for whoever she came to see and then leave.
“Hi, can I help you?” I ask politely.
She smiles as her eyes scan the truck bays then return to meet mine. There’s something strangely empty about them. I can’t place my finger on exactly why I get a weird vibe from her. “I’m looking for one of the firefighters who work here.”
“Sorry, Miss. They’re all out on a call right now. I can take a message for them if you’d like. I’ll just need you to come with me to the offices. All visitors have to sign in.”
“Sure,” she replies with a nod. “I don’t mind.”
“Great. Follow me.” I take her inside and down the hallway to the visitor sign-in sheet at the main reception desk. “Which fi
refighter is the message for?” I ask, just making conversation as I pass her a pen.
“Saul West,” she answers. “He goes by Deuce. He works here, right?”
“Yes, he’s one of the newer transfers,” I reply, trying not to let any reaction show on my face. I shouldn’t feel the tinge of jealousy that surfaces, but I do. I have no right to any claim on Deuce or Hammer, no matter how much I like them both.
“Great. How’s he doing?”
“Good,” I answer with a shrug. “The rest of the guys like working with him, and I hear he’s great out in the field. He and Hammer fit right in around here.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“Have you known them for a while?”
“Sure, you could say that.”
“Old friends from Truckee?” I probe, and immediately realize how I must come across to her. I shouldn’t be this inquisitive about men who are supposed to be my coworkers, and I definitely shouldn’t be forward to a complete stranger. She can be one of the fire victims they rescued since they’ve been working here. A lot of the people the firefighters and paramedics rescue tend to come by afterward to thank whoever saved or helped them. It’s possible she’s one of these people.
But then, she fills out her name in print on the sheet, and even though I see the words upside down from the other side of the desk, I notice that she’s written her name as Dawn West.
Dawn West.
Here to see Deuce.
Saul West.
She must be a relative. It can’t be a coincidence.
But I have no business asking for clarification on how she knows him.
She places the pen back on the counter after finishing with the sign-in sheet and leaving her message for Deuce.
“Well, thanks for your help.”
“No problem,” I tell her. “I’ll show you out through the other exit. It’s actually closer.”
“Lead the way.”
We arrive at the door, and as she steps outside, she turns to face me and stretches out her hand. “Thanks again,” she says.
“It’s no trouble,” I answer and shake her hand.
A glint of a reflection catches my eye, and I look down her body without thinking, assuming it’s a shiny belt or flashy waistband of the pair of pants she’s wearing.
That’s when I see it and freeze for a split second.
The shiny handle of a Derringer.
I know my guns. I also know we’re in a state where carrying a concealed weapon requires a permit.
“Well, have a nice day,” I tell her, doing my best not to react because I’m not in a position to say a word.
“You too.” She turns to leave, and the first of the fire trucks catches my eye in the distance. She notices it too. “Looks like I might be seeing Deuce after all,” she says, smiling as she pulls her coat closed and flings her bright red locks back over her shoulders.
The fire truck stops abruptly as it turns onto the driveway. It doesn’t make it into the truck bays. Deuce is the first to jump out the back door, followed by Hammer. Their faces are covered in soot, but even so, I see their openly concerned expressions as they run toward us. It’s more than concern. It’s worry, a bit of fear, and maybe anger.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Dawn?” Deuce asks in a demanding tone.
Hammer steps between Dawn and me. The move is subtle, but his stance is different. He has one hand outstretched at waist height, palm facing back at me, fingers spread wide.
It’s a protective position, the kind people make when they want to make themselves appear bigger, more foreboding and dangerous while they create cover for whoever they’re protecting.
Except it doesn’t feel as though he’s protecting her from me.
It’s the other way around.
Hammer’s protecting me.
Does he know about the gun?
“That’s not the nicest welcome for your wife, is it?” she answers.
My body tenses and I have to lean to one side to see Deuce’s face for his reaction.
Shit.
The pretty redheaded woman with a gun tucked into her waistband is Deuce’s wife?
I think it’s a tenuous situation as it is, but then it gets worse.
My father drives up in his van.
21
Deuce
“Ex-wife,” I correct her and hear my own voice brimming over with something venomous. I’m mad as hell. Mostly with myself for not agreeing to file that fucking complaint against her. She’d be sitting in a police station jail cell or an interview room right now. But I’m the dumbass who let her walk, and believed that handling it alone was best for everyone.
Now, look where that gets me.
“Stop playing games and tell me why you’re here,” I demand. “We know about the motel fire.”
“Playing games?” she scoffs and nods over at Hammer. “Maybe you and Hammer should stop playing with the little brunette back there. You think I can’t tell? She’s exactly both your types. I never figured you’d get this brazen though, risking your jobs by screwing your boss’s daughter.”
Fuck. She knows about us and Ember? I don’t have a comeback for that. Not with the chief within earshot. Not with all these witnesses.
“You don’t know anything about anything,” I tell her.
I’m working hard to mask the shame and downplay the accusation. But it’s out there now. Everyone around us hears it. And it’s true. Looking up at Hammer now, I see it in his face too. Not the shame about everyone finding out. The fact that he has it bad for Ember. He’s standing there, using his body as a shield to protect her from Dawn. Willing to die for her if it comes down to that.
Fuck, I’m sure the look on my face is no different. I have no recollection of when it happened, but something changed in my heart. It just came from out of nowhere, and now I have it bad for Ember.
“Well, I’ll be,” Dawn continues. “You’re not just playing, are you? You care about her.” She looks back at Hammer for a few seconds, then returns her gaze to me. “You both love the same woman. Isn’t that cute?”
“Stop it, Dawn,” I rumble out between clenched teeth. “You didn’t come all the way out here to make accusations about me or Hammer. Put the gun down and say what it is you came here to say.”
Some movement to my right catches my eye, and I turn to my side to see the chief slip by me.
“No, Chief, it’s okay,” I shout, glancing over at him for a split second because I can’t afford to keep my eyes off of that gun, not even for a moment. “Just get everyone inside. This is my mess. I’ll clean it up.”
“That’s what I am to you, Deuce? A mess?” Dawn shrieks.
“Calm down, Ma’am,” the chief says in a firm tone, extending a hand with his open palm facing up toward Dawn. “Hand over the gun before someone gets hurt, young lady. There’s still time for you to walk away. We can help you figure out whatever you’re going through.”
It’s a relief to me that he doesn’t address the part about one of us fucking his daughter or falling for her. Thank God for that. I’m pretty sure he’s smart enough to park the bullshit, but parking it is bound to be temporary. He’s got to be saving it for later. The hell storm is in limbo. He’ll rain down on Hammer and me when this crisis is brought under control. Who knows what he’s thinking right now.
“You don’t know a thing about me, Chief,” she shouts, mocking both the term and the tone that I use to address my boss. “And I sure as hell don’t need your help.”
“Give me the gun,” the chief demands and takes another step toward Dawn.
“Stop right there! Step back!” Dawn screams.
“Just put down the gun, Mrs. West.”
“Not until Deuce agrees to let me see my daughter.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I say. “Not after you show up like this with that weapon you’re pointing all over the place.”
“Be quiet, Deuce,” the chief orders me, his eyes fixed on Dawn. “
Ma’am, I promise you that he’s wrong. We can figure something out. Just give me the gun, and we’ll go from there.”
“I can’t... won’t.”
The chief takes one more small step toward her and she starts screaming.
“Stop… or I’ll fucking shoot!” she says in between a string of words that are so garbled that I can’t understand what she’s saying.
The chief doesn’t back down. “You need to understand that I won’t stand here and let you hurt anyone. Not my daughter, not my men. Not even you, young lady. Just hand it over. Give me the—”
Everything after that moment happens so fast that it’s a blur. Dawn turns to the chief, her gun leveled and pointing at his chest. Her hands are shaking so badly, probably from the drugs and the adrenaline. The chief turns his body sideways and lunges forward for the gun. He and Dawn tumble to the ground as he tries to take the weapon away.
Eyes widen.
Hammer pushes Ember further away from the melee.
Bang. Bang.
We all duck down low then freeze at the sound of two deafening shots that blast out from the gun.
Both Dawn and the chief stop moving.
It’s eerily silent, surreal.
Then we see the pool of blood forming on the ground around their midsections.
“Chief! Are you okay?”
“Dad!” Ember shouts. “Oh my God, Dad! You’re hurt!”
“Take her inside, Hammer,” I bark and hurry over to the tangle of their two toppled bodies.
“Chief?” I say more loudly and drop to my knees. “Chief?”
As I turn him onto his back, he gasps and groans, then he pushes away the gun secured in his hand. “Get London and Sewells to check her out first,” he orders, referring to the paramedics on our shift. “She’s going to need trauma surgery.” There’s a bullet-sized hole in his shirt at one side of his stomach. And blood. So much fucking blood. “Now, Deuce!”
“Get the paramedics back here!” I shout up toward Davis and shift closer to check Dawn’s injury.
Dawn isn’t moving. She’s so still as she lies there unconscious and barely breathing. The area of her shirt covering her abdomen is soaked in blood. Blood is seeping out, spreading out around her into a puddle that grows and grows. A slight lift of her blood-soaked top confirms my suspicion. A bullet hit her in the center of her stomach. People don’t come back from this type of injury very often. Dawn may not survive.
Two Firefighters Next Door: A Bad Boy MFM Romance Page 13