Fearless

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “Do me a favor,” he said, channeling every ounce of his effort into his inhale. “Come find me if there’s any word on Nelson. I’ve got to take care of something.”

  Before the others could put voice to their shocked expressions, Cole’s boots were in motion on the linoleum. A ten-second Q&A with the triage nurse had him moving toward one of the curtained areas, where Brett O’Halloran stood making notes at the nurse’s station.

  “Hey, Everett. Looks like you guys had a helluva fire this morning. How’s your candidate doing?”

  “She’s stable. They’re still working her up.” Cole’s brain screamed at him to focus on anything other than the image of Savannah on that nightclub floor. “How’s this guy?”

  O’Halloran shifted into business mode, smoothing a hand over his FPD blues. “Grateful as hell that you and your partner showed up when you did. I guess he left early last night with a headache and came back to do the books this morning. Wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

  Of course not. No witnesses made arson easier to cover up. “Did he say he saw anything unusual?”

  “He’s pretty out of it,” O’Halloran admitted. “I guess he smelled the smoke from the back office and went to check it out. He said the fire spread really fast. By the time the alarms went off, his exit path was compromised. He went into the office to break the window and signal for help, but the smoke got him first.”

  “He didn’t say anything about how he thought the fire might’ve started?” Cole knew he was pressing, but he was too far gone to give a shit.

  This fire could’ve killed a civilian, not to mention any of the firefighters at Eight. If foul play was a factor, he was getting to the bottom of it. Right fucking now.

  No matter who was involved.

  “That’s kind of more your department than mine,” O’Halloran said, his brows-up expression indicating he’d noticed Cole’s interest, loud and clear. “Why, you got a hunch here?”

  Cole tugged a hand through his sweat-damp hair in an effort to buy both time and composure. “He just mentioned something about batteries when we were dragging him out. It seemed a little weird, that’s all.”

  “Funny, he said that to me, too,” O’Halloran said, flipping through his notebook. “Yeah. Said he thought he saw a pile of nine-volt batteries by one of the electrical panels in the club, burning like crazy. I guess the bouncers and managers use ’em in their headsets, but apparently they went up in record time and took everything around them along for the ride.”

  Cole’s breath jammed in his windpipe. Batteries conducted electricity, even when they weren’t plugged into anything, and on nine-volts, the positive and negative posts were close enough to kiss. Add something to complete the current, like maybe a handful of steel wool, and a bunch of flammable debris—or better yet, alcohol from the bar as an accelerant to spread the flames quickly—and bam. You’d have a hell of a fire, with nothing left behind to make the blaze look suspicious.

  Even if it was arson.

  “Whoa. Everett, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  Cole nodded, already pivoting back toward the waiting room.

  “Yeah, O’Halloran. I’m solid. I just need to find my squad lieutenant. Right now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  By the time Cole reached the waiting room, his anger was a living, breathing thing, taking over his body and torching his composure down to the bricks. He bypassed the furrowed brows and confused expressions of his station-mates—all present save Captain Westin—zeroing in on Oz’s flinty gray stare.

  “A word, Lieutenant,” he hissed past his teeth, not stopping to see the guy’s response as he continued out to the ambulance bay. As furious as he was, Cole’s sewn-in instinct to keep dirty laundry in-house still ran strong, and he didn’t stop until he was sure they were in a spot where no one could overhear them without being seen.

  Oz crossed his arms over his sweat-stained T-shirt, a scissor-sharp frown covering his face beneath a layer of soot and stubble. “You may be jacked up from this fire, Everett, but you’d better step careful when you’re talking to me.”

  Just like that, the tight knot of emotion in Cole’s belly snapped. “And you’d better step careful, period. Are you covering up arson, Lieutenant?”

  “Are you fucking your candidate?”

  The words knocked into Cole unexpectedly, rendering him too shocked to move, let alone scrape up any words to speak, and Oz took full tactical advantage of Cole’s surprise. He covered the pavement between them in only four steps, nailing Cole with a stare that never considered being anything less than hateful.

  “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Oz waved a hand, his expression sliding into a humorless smile. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, since we both know the answer.”

  Cole grasped at his wits, although his slamming heartbeat made it a hell of a tough go. “You don’t know shit,” he said. Calling Oz’s bluff was his best strategy, the only way to regain the upper hand.

  Not that Oz was going to let that happen. “Please. Unlike you, I know enough to have real evidence when I start slinging accusations around.” He whipped his cell phone from the pocket of his bunker pants, tapping the screen to life. “You and Nelson should be more discreet when you get handsy in the parking lot after shift. Oh, and when you meet up at Scarlett’s. Anyone happening by could take a picture of the two of you kissing. Although gosh, you lovebirds looked sweet this morning.”

  Cole’s blood turned subarctic in his veins. “You followed us?”

  “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I can’t say I blame you for balling her, really. Nelson might be a righteous pain in the ass, but she’s not hard on the eyes. Bet she’s a goddamn hellcat in the sack, too. But inter-house relations lead to all sorts of trouble. Relations with a candidate?” Oz paused to let out a low whistle. “Your careers could really hit the skids over a scandal this big.”

  Fear and something a whole lot darker climbed the back of Cole’s throat. “Are you threatening me?”

  Everything about Oz’s expression said yes, from his flat, furious glare to the tight-fisted stance testing the hard limits of Cole’s personal space.

  But then he took a step back. “’Course not. I’m simply reviewing house rules with you, Everett. In case you’ve forgotten how things go in the chain of command.”

  Cole’s laugh was all disbelief. “You’ve got balls of solid rock, talking to me about house rules. You’re committing arson.”

  Oz’s stare flashed over, dark and unrelenting. “And what’ve you got to prove such a weighty claim, hmm? A bunch of threadbare conjecture full of maybes and could-bes, that’s what. The only time I’ve ever been to those scenes was on official FFD business, and I guarantee you can’t prove otherwise because it’s just not so. I’ve been fighting fires since before you even got your first hand job, son. My word will wash over yours, every single time.”

  “Maybe we should let the arson unit decide that, huh?” It was Cole’s last-ditch attempt, but hell if it didn’t bull’s-eye its mark.

  Oz froze, only for a second before his sneer curled into place. “The one your girl’s brother works for, you mean? That’s a bit of a conflict of interest. Especially since if you cast that stone, I’ll have no choice but to throw back.”

  “And what if I’m willing to take the heat?” Cole asked.

  This time, Oz didn’t hesitate. “Then you’ll lose your career, and so will your sweetheart. If you go pointing fingers, I’ll tell Chief Williams that when I stumbled on your indiscretion, you threatened to ruin my name. Hell, everyone in that waiting room just saw you jawing off at me. By the time I’m done telling my side of this story and splashing the proof of your affair all over the FFD, no fire department in the country will see either one of your résumés without these photos stapled right to the top.”

  He stepped up, his stare as insidious as it was full of promise, and in that moment, Cole’s strategy disintegrated
.

  “You’ve got nothing on me, Everett. No facts, no angle, no options. If you want to run your mouth anyway, go right ahead. But make no mistake. You choose that road, and I will burn your career to the fucking ground.”

  * * *

  “I’ve got to be honest, Miss Nelson. With luck like yours, I’m tempted to send you to Vegas. After you take a few days to recover, of course.”

  After six hours’ worth of CAT scans and concussion protocol, Savannah thought Vegas sounded like a damned good plan. She rubbed the little bandage over the spot where the nurse had just taken out her IV, more ready than ever to get her pink slip from the ED. “Thanks, Doc. But I told you, I’m really no worse for wear.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” the doctor argued, albeit gently. “While you’ve been cleared of a head injury and you escaped with a nasty sprain to that wrist, you’re still going to need to take it easy.”

  He reviewed her release orders with her, mostly emphasizing that she needed to wear the splint on her wrist for a few more weeks and that she’d probably feel like she’d been suplexed by a professional wrestler tomorrow. She nodded and signed off on the electronic chart, listening as the doc finished his spiel.

  “But I can go back to work next shift, right?” Honestly, despite the fanfare of the last few hours, she didn’t feel all that horrible now. The grogginess from the pain meds had worn off and the high dose of ibuprofen the nurse had given her had kicked in nice and steady. She’d go bat shit crazy sitting in her brother’s place for five whole days, and it wasn’t as if she’d never worked through a few muscle aches before.

  The doctor’s sigh wasn’t unkind. “You’ll be on limited duty with that wrist injury, but as long as you’re feeling up to it, I don’t see any reason why not. Now go home and get some rest. I’ll let your ride know you’re good to go.”

  Savannah pulled back, confused. “But my ride is a cab.”

  After she’d proven to the guys on engine that she was, in fact, absolutely unscathed and they should get their asses back to work, everyone at Eight had headed out. Rachel had come back in the rig to drop off Savannah’s duffel, but since her car was still at the station, she figured she’d just cab it back to Brad’s.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said, seeming equally confused. “One of your fellow firefighters was quite adamant about staying to take you home. He didn’t want to disturb you while you rested, but . . . well, he looks quite concerned. I thought you knew he was waiting outside in the lobby.”

  Savannah sent up a tiny prayer of thanks that her vitals were no longer being monitored; otherwise they’d probably never spit her out of this place.

  Cole really did have her back.

  She released a shaky exhale, her cheeks prickling hard enough to signal her blush. “Oh. Right. Um, I guess you can go ahead and tell him it’s fine to come back, then.”

  Savannah waited for the doctor to depart, gingerly removing her blue-and-white hospital gown to trade it for the yoga pants and T-shirt in her bag. She was fumbling with the laces on her cross-trainers when the sound of the opening door made her pause.

  “Hey,” Cole said, and holy shit, he looked awful. “Here, let me help you.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t need to. I’m . . .” She trailed off, her heart squeezing tight as he stepped in close to cradle her face between his palms. Worry lines tugged his sandy brows into a V, his green eyes dark with an emotion she couldn’t name but felt deep in her belly as he looked at her.

  “Cole, what’s the matter?” She tried to pull back to look at him, her pulse tapping in true concern, but he dropped his forehead over hers, his expression bordering on desperate.

  “Please, Savannah. This morning scared the hell out of me, and everything else is just . . . I can’t . . . I need to have you close, okay? Just me and you and nothing else right now. Please.”

  “Oh.” The word collapsed past her lips. As much as she hadn’t wanted to admit it before, the day really had taken a toll on her, too. The only place she wanted to be was wrapped up in Cole’s arms, reassuring him that she really was fine. “Okay. Just me and you.”

  Wordlessly, they gathered her things and made their way to a waiting taxi. He ushered her into the backseat before sliding in after her, and Savannah belatedly realized that he was still in his bunker pants and T-shirt from this morning’s call.

  “You’ve been here this whole time?” she asked, her lips parting in shock.

  Cole nodded. “The doctor said you fell asleep after everyone from Eight went back to the house. I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t leave, so I took a personal day and Donovan said he’d run my Jeep back to my place after shift tomorrow.”

  “Cole, I promise I’m fine.” She lifted his hands to her breastbone, pressing his palms over her heart as proof.

  His exhale was slow and unsteady. “I know, sweetheart, but I’m not. So do me a favor and just let me hold you until I get that way, okay?”

  Savannah settled in at his side, nestling against the warmth of his body as the short cab ride to his place slipped away. After they arrived in front of his building, she let him guide her all the way to his door. Gently steering her over the threshold, Cole lowered her bag to the floor in the same spot where his own bag usually went.

  “Are you hungry? You probably haven’t eaten all day,” he said, making a move toward the kitchen. But instinct had her reaching out, capturing his wrist with her good hand.

  “I don’t want food, Cole.”

  He froze into place in the hallway, his body bowstring tight beneath her touch. “What do you want?”

  “Truth?” She stepped into the circle of his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his neck just above his thrumming pulse point. “I want a shower.”

  “That’s not what I meant when I said I wanted you close,” he grated, although his heated exhale betrayed the words. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, Savannah.”

  “But we’ve already established that I’m fine. And anyway, I’m not kidding. Between the fire and the hospital, I really just want to get this day off me.”

  “Okay,” he agreed slowly. “But a shower is probably a bad plan with that splint. Why don’t I start a bath?”

  Savannah’s first compulsion was to laugh—after all, she was about as far from the bubble-bath type as it got. But Cole looked so serious, so dead set on taking care of her, that she just nodded. “That sounds good.”

  She followed him to the master bathroom, watching as he turned on both faucets at the foot of the oval-shaped soaking tub along the far wall. He pulled off his turnout gear, keeping his T-shirt and uniform pants in place, then crossed the bathroom tiles to skim his hands over her shoulders. Cheeks burning from the sheer intensity on his face, Savannah reached down to fumble her way out of her clothes.

  Cole’s fingers tightened on her shoulders, just enough to stay her movements. “Stop.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but that needful expression he’d worn at the hospital was back, only now it was magnified.

  “I know you’re tough, Savannah. But please let me do this. Let me take care of you.”

  With the gentlest of motions, he lifted her T-shirt over her head, letting it flutter to the floor. The rest of her clothes quickly followed, her heart beating faster as Cole led her over to the bathtub and helped her in. Getting situated with the splint was a little awkward, but once she propped it over a rolled-up towel on the ledge of the tile surround by the wall, she was able to slide all the way into the warm water.

  “Ohhh.” Okay, so maybe she needed to relax a little more than she’d thought. The steamy water sent her muscles into an instant unwind, and when Cole’s hands followed over her skin, she sighed again in pure pleasure.

  “Good?” he asked, reaching for the soap he’d grabbed from the adjacent shower.

  “Yes, but . . .” Savannah stopped, biting her bottom lip. Clearly, today had rattled him pretty hard. Letting someone take care of her wasn’t necessarily in he
r wheelhouse, but if that was what Cole needed, she could do it.

  She trusted him. She needed him.

  She loved him.

  “Yes,” she said, melting into his touch. He ran his fingers over her neck, washing her shoulders, her uninjured arm, and her back with care. His palms slid around to her rib cage, skimming the part of her torso above the now-soapy water, and her breath hitched in her throat.

  “You’re getting soaked,” Savannah pointed out. Water stained the side of both his T-shirt and his pants, but Cole dismissed it with a shake of his head.

  “I don’t care.” He reached for her shoulder, but the heat blooming between her thighs from his closeness, from the intimacy of his touch even though it hadn’t been overtly sexual, made her catch his wrist.

  “Get in the tub with me.”

  “I—” Cole broke off. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  “I am resting,” she said, gesturing down at her very naked body stretched out along the porcelain. “But I’d rather be resting with you.”

  “Savannah.” His eyes glittered so dark, they turned evergreen. “If I get into that bathtub with you, resting will be the furthest thing from what we end up doing.”

  Her body clenched at the thought, right along with her heart. “I know. Now are you getting in, or am I coming out to get you?”

  Cole stood, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat and his clothes finding the floor by way of a few economical lifts and tugs. With her heart beating a rapid tattoo of anticipation against her breastbone, Savannah slid forward, allowing him enough room to lower himself into the bathtub behind her. Cole’s right arm slipped around her body, his left gently securing hers out of reach of the water. A hard breath burst through her lungs, leaving her lips on a moan, and oh God, she’d never felt so hot or right or cared for in her whole life.

  “Savannah.” Cole’s whisper coasted past her ear on a warm exhale, and she heard the unspoken question in his ragged tone.

  She lifted her chin to brush a kiss over his jaw. “Yes, Cole. I’m sure. Take care of me. Please.”