Men on Fire [Men for Hire: Firemen 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  The color faded from her cheeks, and yet even then she was spellbinding. Like a troubled princess who’d jumped out of a fairy tale. “No. Please don’t.”

  “Then tell us what you know.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  They were at a stalemate and Brody was only making it worse by attacking her. “Bro, you’ve got to back off.” He put his arm on his brother’s. “Maybe if we all sat down and talked like reasonable adults. How about that? You came here asking for the Firemen for Hire team for a reason, right?”

  She clenched her jaw and gritted out the words. “Let. Me. Go.”

  “Bro, if she wants to go, you can’t stop her.”

  “Sure, I can. I’m making a citizen’s arrest.”

  “What?” A whimper escaped her.

  Wiley thought it was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. His thoughts went straight to the apartment he and Brody shared and the bedroom that contained a few of their toys. He could already imagine her whimpering as he feathered the soft leather strips of a flogger across her back, then bent over and slid his tongue into her dark hole.

  “He’s kidding.”

  “The hell I am.”

  Neither one of them was going to give in. It was up to him to make one or both of them see that they had to compromise. “Okay, you two. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to act like we’re grownups and we’re going to sit down at the table and talk.”

  He waited for her to refuse and when she didn’t, he took it as a good sign. “Good. Then on the count of three, my brother’s going to back away and take a seat. Then I’ll take a seat.”

  He paused, once more giving her the chance to protest. Or suggest an alternative solution. “Then you’ll take a seat. Sound good?”

  She bit her lower lip, and damned if his cock didn’t twitch to life. The only surprise was that it hadn’t sprung to life earlier.

  “Okay.”

  Her voice wasn’t louder than the softest of whispers, but as long as it was the right answer, he was good.

  “Good. Brody, move.”

  Brody shot him a look that could’ve singed his hair if he’d been able to throw fire from his eyes. Nonetheless, he pushed away from the counter, then took his sweet time getting to the chair and sitting down. But Wiley wasn’t about to complain. Trying to force his brother to do anything was always counterproductive.

  “Okay, then. My turn.” He took the seat across from his brother, then put his boots against the chair at the head of the table and scooted it toward her. “Here you go. Sit down and we’ll all talk, nice and easy like.”

  She nodded, then took a step toward the chair. In the next instant, however, she reminded him just how fast she could run.

  “Fuck!” Brody was up and moving after her.

  Wiley knocked over his chair as he bolted toward the door, making it a second before his brother did. He blocked the way.

  “Move!”

  Brody knocked him back, but Wiley was determined to make his stand. “Calm down, bro. What are you going to do? Chase after her and drag her out of her car?”

  “If I have to.” Brody had always been a little bigger and a little stronger, even though he was the younger brother. He used that added strength to take Wiley by his shirt and thrust him out of the way.

  Wiley rushed after his brother who dashed through the engine bay to the outside. The squeal of brakes had them turning to see the woman, her fear-filled face reflected in the side mirror, as she sped a large, older car back onto the road.

  Brody heeled toward him, his face a mask of anger. “Brother, I swear to God, one of these days, you’re going to push me one time too many.”

  Wiley didn’t bother trying to make him see sense. When Brody got riled, he just had to get out of the way and wait for him to calm down.

  He watched as her car put up a wall of dust behind it. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll see you again real soon.”

  “Where’d she get off to?” Paul strode toward them.

  Brody whirled around and strode away. “Ask Wiley.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means my brother got a little too zealous and scared the crap out of her. She took off and I don’t blame her.”

  “I don’t get it. She came asking for our help and then she took off without telling us what’s going on?”

  Wiley trusted Paul almost as much as he trusted his brother, but he still held back, his need to protect her taking control. “Yep. So what did she tell you anyway?”

  “Only that she wanted to talk to the Firemen for Hire team. I would’ve gotten more info if Cap hadn’t called me into his office.”

  “Damn. Then all we have to go on is her first name and that she works at Hope House. Still, it should be enough to track her down.”

  “I got her full name. It’s Michelle Rossin. And you’d better play it careful like. She may not want you tracking her down where she works.”

  “True enough. Although I’m thinking it’d be better to go there than to show up on her doorstep.”

  “I don’t know. Either one could be tricky.” Paul slapped him on the shoulder. “Anyway, she’s all yours. You and your brother can handle this, right?”

  “That’s why we transferred earlier than we’d planned.”

  If Paul hadn’t approached them to join the Firemen for Hire team, they’d have stayed at the other fire station until it was due to close in another few days. City budget cuts had taken a toll, closing several fire stations and stretching the remaining stations to their limits. Then, after hearing how the team helped women in need, they’d asked for an immediate transfer and had gotten a quick response. Two days after the house fire, they’d started their first shift at Fire Station No. 2.

  “Good. I knew I chose the right men to take my place. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to Destiny.”

  “Back to Destiny and that pretty woman of yours, you mean. What was her name again?”

  He was pretty sure Paul realized that he was only getting him to say her name because it made the usually somber Paul light up. From what the others had told him, it was a running gag at the station every time Paul came to visit.

  “You know damn well what her name is.”

  “Do I? Do I really, Paul?”

  Paul shot him a look, but as it always did, the mention of his woman crooked the corners of his mouth upward. “Her name is Daisy Winters and you’ll be one lucky bastard if you ever find a woman half as good.”

  Wiley’s gaze flicked in the direction Michelle had fled. “Yeah. You’re right about that.”

  * * * *

  “Bro, can you handle doing that without losing it?”

  Brody tossed the chunks of potatoes into the large pot. Cooking pot roast along with onions, carrots, and potatoes was one of the easiest meals to make and one that could feed a group of people like all the firemen on duty at the station. Sourdough bread smothered with butter was wrapped in foil and heating in the oven. “Keep your voice down.”

  A few of the other firemen were gathered in the adjoining living room area watching the large-screen television. The annual game between the University of Oklahoma and the Nebraska Cornhuskers was playing out and he was already ticked that he was missing the action. But it was his night to cook dinner and he never shirked his duty.

  “What’s the score?”

  “Beats the hell out of me. Answer my question.”

  Wiley couldn’t care less about any sport and that was okay. But to not care about Oklahoma football? That was tantamount to committing a major sin.

  “Can you at least tell me if the Sooners are winning?”

  Wiley half-glanced at the screen. “Yeah. It’s fourteen to seven.”

  “What quarter?”

  Again, Wiley swiveled around on the bar stool and craned his neck to see the screen. “Second. I think. Now can we get back to what’s important?”

  Brody placed the lid on top of the pot and turned down the heat to simmer. He
checked the time on the oven. “Fine. And yes. I can handle going to see her at Hope House.”

  “And you’re going to hold off on jumping to conclusions and calling her a fire bug, right?”

  After he’d calmed down, he’d had to admit that he’d gone haywire on her. Seeing her standing in the middle of the break room had thrown him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good. Then that’s what we’ll do tomorrow.”

  “And if she’s not there?”

  “Then we check out her home.”

  “You’ve gotten her address?”

  Wiley shrugged. “Isn’t that what the Internet is for?”

  “That’s debatable.” He lifted the pot to check on the food if for no other reason than to have something to do.

  “So what’d you think about her?”

  “I think she could be a suspect in setting the fires.” He knew what his brother was really getting at, but wasn’t about to go there. Not yet anyway.

  “Uh-huh. Like you don’t know what I mean. She’s hot. Real hot.”

  “Maybe too hot if her fingertips have been that close to the flames.”

  “Damn, man, will you give it a rest? Her being there doesn’t mean she’s responsible.”

  “Maybe not. But her being that close means she has a special interest in it. Otherwise, she would’ve stayed back like the rest of the onlookers. Either she had a hand in starting it or she knows something about who did.”

  “I don’t care what you say, Brody. She’s a looker and I want to get to know her. Without you hounding her.”

  “That’s fine with me. The closer we get, the more likely she is to spill what she knows.”

  “So you’re saying you didn’t even notice how smokin’ she is? That’s bullshit, bro.”

  “Sure I noticed. I’m not dead. But that’s beside the point.”

  Wiley had called her smokin’. Hell, the girl was downright on fire. He just hoped she wasn’t literally on fire, as in striking a match to the gasoline that had been splashed inside the abandoned house.

  But his brother was right. She was the perfect girl for them. At least physically. They both loved blondes, especially petite ones who still had enough curves to make any man’s mouth water. Even as he’d cornered her against the counter, he’d felt her allure, the undeniable attraction that had never been that strong to any other woman. Her blue eyes, the color of the Caribbean Ocean he’d seen once during a spontaneous vacation, had been filled with slivers of silver like tiny fish skimming through the water. They’d been bright and full of energy.

  And fear.

  Part of him hated that he’d made her so afraid. And yet, fear often made people say things they’d otherwise keep to themselves.

  And the way she smelled. Oh, man, whether that was perfume or her natural scent didn’t matter. Though he doubted any manmade fragrance would ever smell as sweet. Her aroma had eased through his skin and into his bones, making him want to inhale harder and longer. If he’d done as he’d wanted, he would’ve sniffed her like the big horndog that he was.

  Yet apart from the physical aspect of her, what was she? Was she an unselfish woman with a heart of gold who worked with young boys who needed help? Or did she have a hobby of setting fires to see buildings burn?

  A cheer erupted from the group watching television, but Brody stayed where he was. Although the pot roast was fine cooking on its own, he had a salad to prepare. He gathered the vegetables and a head of lettuce out of the commercial-size refrigerator and plopped them on the countertop in front of Wiley.

  “Here. Make yourself useful and cut these up.”

  Wiley pulled a knife from the rack and made quick strokes through a bell pepper. “I can’t see her as anyone who would light a fire. Nope. I just can’t go there.”

  “Let me guess. You have a gut instinct about her.”

  “That’s right. And my gut’s dead on a lot of the time.”

  Wiley did have good judge of character, but it wasn’t infallible. Problem was, he had a bad feeling that if his brother’s gut was off this time, it could make them pay with their hearts. He shook off the fanciful thought.

  “Don’t go letting your hormones blind you, Wiley.”

  “Okay, I won’t. As long as you don’t go letting your zeal to find whoever started the fire cloud your judgment. We wouldn’t want to go accusing anyone until we have real proof.”

  “Agreed.” He hadn’t asked Wiley before, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. “So was it your gut telling you that she’s innocent that kept you from mentioning seeing her at the fire to Paul? Or to Cap for that matter?”

  His brother pushed the mound of red pepper onto the plate at the end of the cutting board. “Yeah. That, and like I said, a lack of proof.”

  “Fine. Then we’ll talk to her tomorrow. Maybe that’ll change your gut.”

  Wiley brought the knife down with a hard whack, slicing another pepper in half. “Or maybe it’ll change yours.”

  “Huh.” He wasn’t about to commit either way. Tomorrow’s visit would give them more to go on, one way or the other. He tore apart the head of lettuce, all the while trying to ignore the excitement that fluttered in his chest.

  Michelle Rossin.

  He was certain she’d play an important part in his life. Just how was left open.

  Chapter Three

  “Curt, give them a chance.” Michelle didn’t push the teen often, but a gnawing concern for him had her doing so now. After being at Linkin’s Hope House for more than five months, he still hadn’t made any friends. She was the only one he’d talk to for more than ten minutes at a time. When anyone else tried, he’d sullen up.

  They sat together on the bleachers overlooking the field as they often did, outsiders watching the other boys play a quick game of touch football. She’d brought him a soda, a treat the boys got only once a day, but it remained untouched by his side.

  Curt’s caramel-colored eyes lifted to hers once, then became hooded again. Anyone else would’ve chalked it up to a normal teenage boy response, but she thought it was more. She’d seen so much in those eyes, from pain to hurt to outright fury. But never joy.

  “Don’t want to.”

  She waved toward the other boys who were shouting and having fun playing soccer. “Look at how much fun they’re having. Don’t you want to have fun, too?”

  He dug the stick farther into the ground at his feet and made first one circle, then another. His stringy, brown hair was mussed as it usually was and the old mud-colored T-shirt he wore even when his other clothes were clean hung from his bony frame. The home’s cook had tried putting “meat on his bones”, yet Curt refused to eat much. He even passed up desserts when the other boys clamored for seconds.

  “Okay, then. How about telling me where you took off to the other day?” She cringed, knowing again that she was pushing too hard, yet unable to resist.

  Curt had snuck away from the home without permission on more than one occasion. Not only was it against the rules, but it was a liability issue. The director of the home, Elbert Linkin, was a fair man, but he had to look after the needs of all the residents and not just one kid. Although she knew Elbert hated the idea, he was considering sending Curt to a different residential facility. One with high fences where he couldn’t leave any time he wanted. The staff prided themselves on trusting the boys in their care, and aside from a few who had broken that trust, their record was outstanding.

  At least until Curt came along.

  He gave her the answer she’d expected. A shrug. “Please tell me where you went.”

  He liked her. She was sure of it. But liking her only went so far.

  “Dunno.”

  “Of course you know.” She had to make him see that she was on his side. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice so none of the other nearby staff members could hear. “I think I know where you went.”

  His head jerked up and the look he gave her held alarm in it. “No you don’t.”

  She made
sure she kept the recrimination out of her voice. “Yes. I’m pretty sure I do. Do you want me to tell you where I think you went?”

  His gaze dropped again as he went back to drawing in the ground. “Whatever.”

  She paused, again considering how far she’d go. “You went to one of those abandoned houses on Fifth and Elm.”

  He didn’t show any sign that she was right. But then she hadn’t expected him to. He held all his emotions bottled up inside him behind masks that fluctuated between hostility and expressionless unconcern.

  The recession hadn’t hit Tulsa as hard as it had elsewhere in the nation. Still, there were certain neighborhoods that had felt the effect more than others. The small housing edition located on the west side of town not far from Hope House was one of those hit hardest. Over half the houses had gone into foreclosure and were left abandoned by their former owners.

  “Curt, if I looked in your room right now, would I find anything that would be concerning?”

  He froze, then gave the slightest shake of his head.

  “Are you sure? Maybe we should go and check.”

  She was walking the line between doing what her job required and trying to win his trust. One day, sooner than she liked, she’d have to make a choice. The only thing that mattered was that the choice would be whatever was best for Curt.

  “Miss Michelle?”

  They both startled at the sound of Elbert’s voice. Curt stood up, jumped his gaze from her to the director, then strode off without a word. She sighed, then, smoothing down her shirt, faced her friend and mentor.

  “I see he’s still quite the charmer.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.

  The staff often addressed each other with the preferential mister or miss while the boys were nearby. She shot him a scowl. “Mr. Elbert. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “I’m sorry.” He was huge, standing well over six feet and as wide as any linebacker in the NFL, even though his days of playing professionally had ended abruptly with an injury. “You know I don’t say that kind of thing normally, but the kid’s wearing on my last nerve. Did you find out where he went the other day?”