Fire Me Up

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “Did you . . . just shush me?” he asked.

  “Only because I love you.” She dipped her lips to his forehead as two paramedics appeared in the doorway, closing in fast. “But do me a favor, would you?”

  Adrian’s eyes locked onto hers, bright green and wide open. “Anything, Red.”

  “Let’s make this our last trip to the hospital, yeah? I’d like to keep you around for a while.”

  Adrian pushed up the sleeves of his chef’s jacket, running a hand over the rows of buttons with a smile that tasted as bitter as it did sweet. Gripping the handle on the skillet in front of him, he coaxed the contents over the low flame. It had been two weeks since he’d taken Carly’s advice and set up the meeting with Jackson’s friend at the Bealetown PD. Detective Winston, along with everyone else on Bealetown’s vice squad, had jumped at the chance to let Adrian wear a wire and work his way into the pay-off in order to nail Lonnie for the laundry list of crimes he’d committed. Shutting Teagan out and going cloak-and-dagger in order to make the informant meetings and get a plan together had been a tall freaking order, but Adrian had known she’d never have gone along with the plan if he’d told her about it. The whole thing had nearly been blown to bits when Teagan had caught him talking to Detectives Allen and Winston on the day of the street fair. Thankfully, Winston had been quick with the cover story about checking on Adrian’s parole. God, he’d hated every second of lying to her, but he would do it again in a second if it meant keeping her safe.

  Even if she had let him have it once he’d recovered from his bruised sternum.

  Adrian moved the skillet off the burner in front of him with his now cast-free left hand, his heart kicking up a notch at the sound of the door opening over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Adrian took a minute to drink in Teagan’s surprise, and damn, even in her careworn navy blue paramedic uniform, she was totally exquisite. A few wisps of red hair fanned down from her ponytail, and she looked exactly the same as the day they’d met.

  “I’m making scrambled eggs. Even money says you skipped lunch at the station, and you need to eat before tonight’s shift.”

  “But you’re not supposed to be here. It’s your first night back at La Dolce Vita,” she said, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

  “It’s my first night back at work,” he corrected, moving to plate the eggs with a smile that felt tailor-made for his face. “And as of this morning, there’s been a change to my work release status.”

  Teagan’s bag hit the floor at her side with a heavy thump, her eyes going perfectly round. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. See, when Detective Winston’s boss called Big Ed and let him in on how I’d helped them catch the nastiest criminal in the Blue Ridge, they worked out a deal. Detective Winston is overseeing the rest of my parole. The paperwork came through today.”

  Although Big Ed had fought it at first, once he’d discovered the truth of what had gone down with Lonnie, he’d had no choice but to go with Lieutenant Miller’s suggestion-slash-order to back off for the remainder of Adrian’s parole. And since the lieutenant had a few good friends at the NYPD, he assured Big Ed there would be plenty of people keeping an eye on how he treated his parolees in the future as well.

  Adrian had received a formal apology along with the paperwork.

  “I don’t understand,” Teagan said, bringing Adrian back to the kitchen with a shake of her head. “I mean, I’m glad about the deal, but what about La Dolce Vita?”

  “I resigned last week. Bellamy’s going to take over as Carly’s sous-chef.”

  It had rattled his chest harder than Lonnie’s nine millimeter to offer Carly his resignation, especially since both she and Bellamy had cried as he’d handed it over. But Adrian would never be far from his family at La Dolce Vita, and it was time for him to face his life with no regrets.

  Teagan reclaimed her voice after a moment of clear surprise. “So you’re going to work here?”

  “Your father puts on a tough interview. But when I proposed handling the kitchen here with Brennan as my bar manager and Jesse as my sous-chef so he could focus on being the GM as his health allowed, he was pretty interested. Of course, he did say all final hires have to go through his second-in-command.”

  She laughed, and no doubt about it, he was home. “But you’re a chef. Don’t you belong in a fancy kitchen?”

  Adrian took a step toward her, then another until he was close enough to breathe in the sweet rosemary scent he loved more than anything. “Don’t you get it? I don’t belong in a place. Not even a kitchen.” He moved his hand to the slim space between them, the center of his palm spreading over her heart. “I belong here, with you. I love you, Teagan. I want you without regrets, forever.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes filled with tears, but her sassy smile refused to let them fall. “Well, I suppose you must be serious if you’re actually using my name.”

  Adrian laughed, cupping her face. “How about we make it even and you use mine back?”

  “You want me to marry you?” she gasped, and yeah. Now the tears fell.

  But Adrian caught each one. “Yes, Red. I want you to marry me.”

  “Okay,” Teagan said, her mouth perfect on his as she pressed up to kiss him. “But let’s eat first. If you want me forever, you’re gonna need all the strength you can get.”

  Recipes

  Adrian’s Pulled Pork Sliders

  This recipe will have people coming back for seconds . . . and thirds! The rub can also be used on chicken breasts. The result is just as tasty.

  Ingredients:

  3 Tablespoons dark brown sugar

  1½ teaspoons smoked paprika

  2 teaspoons chili powder

  1 teaspoon ground cumin

  1 teaspoon salt (kosher preferred)

  ½ teaspoon ground ginger

  One 3-pound pork shoulder

  Barbecue sauce of choice

  8–10 sandwich rolls (split and toasted)

  Directions:

  Combine all dry ingredients in a bowl. Mix well. Cover pork shoulder generously with mixture and cook in a slow cooker on low, 8–10 hours, until extremely tender. Shred with two forks and place is a serving bowl. Add sauce to taste, and enjoy!

  Jesse’s Not-Your-Average Coleslaw

  Putting a personal spin on recipes is a Pine Mountain staple. This slaw is mayo-free, but it makes up for the flavor with a tangy kick from honey mustard.

  Ingredients:

  ¾ cup prepared honey mustard dressing

  2 Tablespoons red wine vinegar

  to ½ cup olive oil

  1 teaspoon each kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  One (16-ounce) bag of coleslaw mix

  Directions:

  Place honey mustard in a medium bowl. Mix in red wine vinegar until combined. Slowly whisk (don’t stir! You’re making an emulsion—doesn’t it feel fancy?) olive oil into the mixture in a steady stream. Don’t be afraid to take your time. Season with salt and pepper. Add slaw mix to cover completely. For great results, serve immediately. For even better results, serve over pulled pork sliders!

  Gnocchi for Two

  Adrian makes his gnocchi by hand, and he makes it look easy as well as sexy. Since pasta by hand is a tricky business unless you’re a big, burly chef, I’m substituting packaged gnocchi for this dish. It goes from pot to plate in five minutes. My kids always ask for more!

  Ingredients:

  1 package potato gnocchi

  1¼ sticks of butter (10 Tablespoons)

  ½ cup granulated sugar

  1–2 Tablespoons cinnamon (to taste, if you’re feeding your kiddos in particular)

  Directions:

  Cook gnocchi according to package directions, drain well and set aside in a serving bowl. Melt butter in a saucepan over low-medium heat, stirring occasionally. Stir in sugar and cinnamon, mixing well and warming through (about 2–3 minutes). Pour sauce over cooke
d gnocchi to combine. Serves 3–4, and is deceptively filling!

  Make a Christmas visit to Pine Mountain this October with Nick Brennan’s story,

  ALL WRAPPED UP!

  Nick Brennan’s boots sounded off against the neat stretch of pavement in front of his apartment, and he inhaled a deep breath full of frozen air and screaming back pain. He’d learned to cope with an extended and somewhat brutal version of winter upon moving to Pine Mountain two years ago.

  The pain was a little more difficult to swallow, but then again, the snap, crackle, and pop running the length of his spine was more rule than exception. After two and a half years, Brennan had learned to suck it up and lock it away.

  After all, there were worse things than blowing out a couple of vertebrae. Not to mention worse ways to deal with the pain.

  Brennan stuffed back the thought, popping the locks on his Chevy Trailblazer and sliding into the well-worn driver’s seat. The Double Shot’s staff schedules weren’t going to write themselves, no matter how much his back creaked like a hundred-year-old staircase, and he needed to get to work, stat. Brennan might’ve closed the bar last night, and yeah, the four before it too, but his friends Adrian and Teagan needed all the help they could get.

  With business booming under the new management of the burly head chef and the owner’s daughter, busy shifts were a foregone conclusion, especially around the holidays. Not that Brennan minded. All that work kept him moving forward, and that was a good thing. Because going back?

  Not an option.

  The handful of country miles between his apartment complex and the small-town bar and grill started flashing by in a late-morning slideshow of snowy pine trees and mountain backdrops, and Brennan cracked his window to take another deep breath despite the December chill in the air. Dwelling on the past and the physical pain that went with it only spelled trouble, and he forced the muscles in his shoulders and back to unwind as he slid more air into his lungs.

  Wait . . . was that smoke?

  Brennan’s pulse catapulted into go-mode, his heart triple-timing it against his sternum even though he refused to let his movements follow suit. With his senses at Defcon One, he methodically scanned the narrow road in front of him from shoulder to shoulder, scooping in another lungful of air as he lasered his focus through the bare trees to the sky overhead.

  Fuck. Definitely smoke. Enough to mean very bad things.

  And it was getting stronger by the second.

  Brennan swung the Trailblazer around a familiar bend in the road, whipping gracelessly into the parking lot of Joe’s Grocery. His palms went slick over the steering wheel as the building came into view past the tree line on either side of Rural Route Four. Black smoke funneled from the far end of the clapboard building near the roofline, billowing with enough density to kick his oh-shit meter up another notch. Fueled by nothing more than pure instinct and hard-edged adrenaline, Brennan threw his SUV into park and laid waste to the distance between his sloppy parking job and the front entrance.

  “Joe!” Relief uncurled in his chest at the sight of the store’s owner standing outside the front door, despite the obvious panic on the older man’s face. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “No.” Joe shook his head, eyes glassy and breath puffing around his face from the cold. “Caleb and I were stocking produce when all of a sudden the fire alarms started going berserk. I did a quick look for people in the aisles, but by the time we got Michelle from the register at the front and told everyone to get out, smoke was all over the place.”

  Jesus. Something must be burning back there, and fast.

  “Okay. If everyone’s out, we need to move away from the building and call nine-one-one.” Brennan turned toward the opposite side of the parking lot, where the two college-aged kids on Joe’s staff stood alongside a smattering of shoppers, thankfully all far enough from the building to be out of harm’s way.

  For now, at least. Fires could turn on a dime and leave nine and a half cents change, and the smoke now steadily pushing at the expanse of windows on Joe’s storefront was thick enough to make Brennan twitchy.

  Right. Time to go. “Come on.” He turned to lead Joe across the parking lot, ready as hell to let the Pine Mountain FD have at the building so he could get out of here and slide back into the shadows, when an ungodly scream stopped him cold.

  “Matthew? Matthew!” The woman belonging to the noise came hurtling around the corner of the building from the back, her head whipping from side to side in a panicked search.

  “Whoa!” Brennan looped an arm around her waist to stop her midstride as she angled herself toward the front door. “You can’t go in there.”

  “My little boy!” She struggled against his grip, turning to fix him with a wild-eyed stare. “He was in the bathroom, but I can’t find him. I think he’s still inside. Please, you have to let me go!”

  Realization punched Brennan’s gut full of holes. “Ma’am, it’s not safe inside. You need to wait for the fire department.”

  “No.” She shook her head, vehement. “No, I don’t see him anywhere. He’s not out here. I’m going back inside!”

  For a split second, the entire scene froze into place. Black smoke, foreboding and malicious, pushed from any exit it could find. The heat pouring off the building, demolishing the chill of winter from twenty feet away, was a clear-cut sign of a large, active fire within. Brennan’s brain screeched at him to restrain the woman and fall back, to let the fire department get here and secure the scene, to not act impulsively in a way that could cost him everything. Again.

  But then he caught sight of the propane tanks Joe sold in the summer, lined up in a chain-link storage locker against the side of the clapboard building, and he was done thinking.

  “Joe, get my cell phone out of my truck and call nine-one-one. Tell them you have an active fire with reported entrapment. Round up everyone on the outside and stay as far away from the building as you can until they get here. Go now.” Brennan flipped his keys to the older man, scanning the grocery store for the best strategic point of entry. Dammit, despite all the possibles, this still had spectacularly bad plan written all over it.

  He turned toward the woman, purposely slowing his words and movements so he didn’t spook her further. “The last place you saw Matthew was the bathroom in the back of the store?”

  “Y-yes,” she sputtered. “When the alarm went off, I looked all over, but I couldn’t find him. I thought . . . maybe he got out another way, but . . . oh God. He’s only seven. You have to help him. Please.”

  Serrated echoes of a different voice yanked at his chest from the depths of two and a half years ago, stealing the breath from his lungs and cementing his body to the asphalt.

  You don’t have time for this. Your only job is to get this kid. This. Kid. Right fucking now.

  Before Brennan could register the movement, the past was gone and his boots were crunching over the frost-encrusted gravel strip leading to the side of the building. The bathrooms were in the back of the store, and he needed to start there and work forward. Just because Matthew’s mom hadn’t seen him there didn’t mean he wasn’t there, and it was the last place the kid had been for sure. With the fire alarm going full bore and the building full of smoke, they could’ve missed each other, and at seven, Matthew had to be terrified.

  Probably enough to hide.

  Jacking the neck of his long-sleeved thermal shirt up to cover his nose and mouth before zipping his black canvas jacket tight, Brennan clattered to a stop by the side door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Although it was ajar, he laid a quick hand on it to assess the temperature, relief splashing through him at the relatively cool feel of the steel panel. This had to be where Matthew’s mom had exited the building. Calculating his surroundings with every move, Brennan swung the door open and stepped inside the space, squinting hard against the thick curtain of smoke issuing up from the floor.

  Christ. Until it had a place to go, this smoke was going to be a major roadblock. He n
eeded to find Matthew. Yesterday.

  “Matthew!” The acrid air scraped a path into Brennan’s lungs, but that didn’t stop him from crouching down low and drawing in another ration of breath. “Call out, buddy! I’m here to help.”

  But the bathrooms and the small office beside them turned up empty, and Brennan banged both doors closed behind him in an effort to isolate his search field and contain some of the heavy smoke. The heat had gone from zero to unbearable in about three seconds flat, and between the sweat stinging his eyes and the smoke clogging his path, visibility was pretty much nil.

  Nope. No way was he leaving without this kid.

  “Matthew!” Swiping an arm over his brow, Brennan tried again, the bellow burning in his chest as he called out over the clanging smoke alarm. “I’m here to get you out!”

  The only answer was the incessant bell and the soft, underlying whoosh of unseen flames that told Brennan he needed to haul ass unless he wanted to die trying.

  Pushing forward, he bent even further for breathable oxygen as he quickly checked the employee break room and made his way toward the main section of the store. Despite the high overhead ceiling, the normally wide-open space was cloaked in hot, soot-filled air and thin stretches of orange flames, and Brennan coughed hard against the sucker punch rattling through his lungs. Fully on his hands and knees now despite the bite of the linoleum through his jeans and the screaming tightness in his back, he forced Matthew’s name past the charred taste of smoke in his mouth.

  Process of elimination told him the boy had to be somewhere in this room, so Brennan shuffle-crawled toward the wall to start a strategic search. Yes, he needed to move as fast as possible, but speed wouldn’t matter for shit if he missed the kid altogether. Starting in aisle one, Brennan clambered down the smoke-obscured rows, instinct thrumming through him as he shoved past metal shelves and cardboard displays. The first four aisles turned up empty, each one hotter and more smoke-laden than the one before it, and damn it, where was this kid?