Pikeman

by Kristen Kelly

  “Ah Christ. Garcia get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

  “Right chief.”

  As the door closed, my mind raced back to the day he helped me Skype with Amy. I’d been so excited then. So out of my head deliriously happy that this young vibrant sexy woman was interested in me. Me! Brock Fitzgerald, the cold fish. The man who pulled people out of buildings with his bare hands and never got a scratch. Me! The confirmed bachelor who barked out orders and never took a day off. After finding my little sex kitten hiding beneath my desk, my inner male ego had come blaring to life. Hell, I’d been living in a fantasy world since that day. Well, a fantasy was just what it was. Nothing more. Nothing less. Maybe if I could help Garcia with his girl, I would feel better about breaking Amy’s heart.

  I ripped the paper with the woman’s address off the pad and then stuffed it in my pocket. Maybe this was just what I needed. An anonymous person I could help. Someone or something to take my mind off Amy. I’d been doing this sort of thing my whole life. I was hiding behind my money, but it worked and each time I felt a bit better about things. Better about what I’d done.

  The first thing I had to do was see what kind of shape the woman’s house was in. If the owner truly did deserve a helping hand, perhaps I could get one of my other charities to pick up the tab. I looked at the date on my watch and ticked off the weekends in my head. Monday. Yup, I was off today. My habit of sleeping at the station—even on my days off—often had me forgetting what day of the week it was especially when I didn’t go home. Grabbing my truck keys off a key rack by the door, I headed downstairs.

  I paused at the bottom of the metal staircase. Several of the men huddled around the scanner, listening to the details of a fire. A spurt of adrenaline kicked in. “What’s going on?”

  “Brush fire over in Jasper” said Williams. “A ground fire. We’re hoping it doesn’t escalate to a crown. It’s just a few acres now but no telling how big those things can get. They’re evacuating all the way to the Sabine River watershed.”

  “I’ve been in one of those. Back in LA. Brutal conditions I can tell you that. Melt your skin right off your face.” I paused, my own temperature rising just thinking about it. To tell you the truth, it was one of the most exciting times of my life and my blood skidded in my veins. When you had shit like that to take care of, everything else in your life was secondary.

  “They won’t call us,” I told Garcia when I saw the worry lines in his face. “Our department isn’t needed this far south. They’ll get that fire tamped down in no time without anyone’s help. They have special crews trained for just forest fires.”

  “Unless it gets out of control,” said Clarke. “Have to be prepared.”

  “Of course,” I amended. “A fireman is always prepared.” I patted Garcia on the back. “For now there isn’t much we can do to help.”

  “We can d pray the wind doesn’t shift,” added Williams.

  “Will it?” Garcia asked shifting his gaze from the scanner back to me. “Get out of control I mean.”

  I pulled open a curtain and looked out the window. “Sky’s blue, sun’s bright. All those trees at the edge of the property aren’t moving. I say, the fire will be out before nightfall.”

  “Hope so,” said the younger man. I worried about Garcia. Hell, I worried about all my men but especially the inexperienced ones. The last thing I wanted was for a rookie get dragged into something as big as a goddammed forest fire. It would swallow him up like a toothpick.

  I took a light jacket off the hook by the door. “Anyway, I’m out of here.” Flinging the coat over my shoulder, I walked past the anxious group of men, down the stairs, and strode into the bay where my truck was parked. Cool air whooshed across my skin and the scent of oil and cleaning fluid permeating my nostrils. I frowned, glancing up to the second floor where all the guys were. The pump and ladder trucks shone like candy apples but the smaller trucks needed washing. I made a mental note to find out who was responsible for that particular duty this week and give him a kick in the ass if need be. This was still my company. I had pride in it, even if I weren’t the chief anymore.

  Climbing into the red Chevy suburban SUV, I placed the key in the ignition but then stopped. Something wasn’t right. The seat was set way too close. I had to hit the button on the side to pull it back before my balls were squashed. I knew that my assistant sometimes drove it, but I didn’t remember giving him permission recently.

  So who did drive it?

  I was just about to turn the key, when I froze. “Fuck!”

  It was the chief’s truck and I was no longer the chief. I ran a hand over the soft leather interior. The stations, among other things, were preset to just the way I liked them, and I liked them, the rearview mirror set for my six foot two inches frame. Damn. I’d have to take my own vehicle from now on, a baby blue beamer with all the bells and whistles. Not a bad ride—but I’d grown used to that truck.

  Forty-five minutes later, I pulled up across the street from the address of Garcia’s girlfriend’s house and shut off the car. Now what should I do? I couldn’t very well knock on the lady’s door and say, ‘hey, I heard the bank is repossessing your house, here’s some cash.’ Most people had too much pride for that kind of thing. Plus, she didn’t know me from Adam. There was also the little aspect of determining if she was worthy or not. Maybe she just told Garcia all that stuff about the bank. He was a little naïve, after all. Or so I thought.

  I leaned forward, trying to get a good assessment of the property. The house was just your ordinary house with polka-dot curtains in the front bay window, three dormers, and a two-car garage. It looked to be in pretty good shape too. I wondered what kind of mess this gal had got into that they were repossessing her family home. I just assumed it was her family home, judging by how well maintained the place was, and Garcia didn’t seem the type to go for an older chic. She had to be about his age or maybe younger. Not that it had anything to do with whether she bought her own house or not. This was just conjecture on my part. It got me to thinking though. What if this girl was a drug addict? What if she just wanted money from Garcia? Didn’t I owe it to the lad to check this woman out? I could always hire a private detective, but that would take too long and time was of the essence. No, I could probably get an inkling if she was on the up-and-up just by the way she dressed and carried herself. I decided to stake out the house, even if it took me all night. Since, leaving Amy, I had nothing else to do anyway.

  I saw someone peak out the window-curtain and then pull down the shade, which made me laugh.

  “That’s right honey. I’m just your average peeping Tom. Better close up those curtains before I get an eyeful. What else you hiding in there, sweetheart?”

  An hour went by and then another and another. No one went in and no one went out. A good sign in my book if I suspected she was a drug dealer.

  The hours ticked by uneventful. Soon, I had to piss so bad, I considered opening a door and going out the side of the car, but I didn’t want to scare the neighbors. Not that any of them were around at this late hour. It didn’t look like a drug addict neighborhood and I was starting to question whether I actually needed to see this gal after all. Every now and again I turned on the radio just to see how the fire in Jasper was progressing, or not progressing.

  It didn’t sound good. Not good at all.

  In the next county, twenty-five hundred homes had to be evacuated and the wind had started to kick up. I was just about to give up my surveillance when a car pulled up in front of the house.

  Out stepped a gorgeous redhead. She was a little on the chunky side for my taste, but still voluptuous in all the right places, soft curves and three-inch heels wearing a burgundy business suit—the kind that demanded respect but also said she could fuck whomever she wanted whenever she wanted to. I guessed this was the chic Garcia was talking about but then didn’t he say she was a brunette? Didn’t matter. Women were always changing their hair color. I tried to put th
e pieces together in my head. From the looks of her, I guessed maybe her business wasn’t doing so hot or perhaps she’d had a low-life boyfriend who stole all her money. Didn’t Garcia say she had just broken up with the jerk? Whatever the case, she definitely didn’t carry herself like a drug addict.

  I made my decision.

  To keep people from asking too many questions and partly to save the gal some pride, I decided I would pay the bank myself. Besides, what else did I have to spend my billions on? I started the engine and pulled away from the curb, but not before I snuck a peak in my rear-view mirror as she entered the house. Another smaller, vaguely familiar woman stood in the open doorway. Perhaps it wasn’t the redhead’s house after all. It didn’t really matter though. I wasn’t a private investigator and at this point I hardly cared. I had more important things to do. Like fight fires.

  ***

  Sure enough, when I turned on the radio again, this time also flipping on the scanner, I realized how serious the fire in Jasper had become. Not only had it spread to San Augustine, and Newton counties but Intercourse and any other surrounding fire companies had already been called in to respond. After making a quick call to my own personal broker at the bank, I stepped on the gas and high-tailed it back to the station, running every red light, every stop sign, and passing every car along the way. The only thing that kept me from getting a ticket was my cherry red flashing emergency light I placed on the top of the car.

  When I got to the station, Williams was the only man there. His face was ashen, his body tense, and he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but behind the desk. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said when he saw me.

  “Heard on the scanner about Sabine Forest. Sounds pretty bad.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re the only two left behind. The only two.” It was more of a command than a statement—like he was warning me from leaving.

  “Don’t pull rank on me, Williams. I’m the only guy around here whose lived through that kind of shit. Hell, those guys don’t know what the fuck they’re up against! Half of them still wet their pants in a structure fire.”

  “They’ve been trained, Brock. It’s what they’ve signed up for.”

  “Fuck that. I’m going.”

  “Like hell you are. Like I said, we’re the only ones in the station. What the hell would I do if someone else has an emergency?”

  “This is the emergency,” I shouted, my blood boiling around my ears. “Don’t you see? You don’t fight this demon like any other fire. They don’t know what they’re up against. That fire will eat our guys alive. And if you force me to leave them out there without my supervision, you can kiss half their asses goodbye and I don’t mean they’ll quit. They’ll be fucking dead!”

  Williams nodded, his lips taunt. “Go then.”

  I flung open the door that separated the living area and the bay. I jumped inside my boots, threw on my canvas coat and popped my ass inside the only vehicle at my disposal, ironically, the red SUV. Then I turned on the siren and pulled out of the station house.

  I didn’t have to drive far before the acrid taste in the air made my throat ache. Ashes filtered through the air. Sabine Forest covered one-hundred-and-sixty-thousand acres on the easternmost border of Texas. Jasper was twenty-eight miles away from Intercourse. As adrenaline coursed through my body, I hoped I wasn’t too late. I had to get there before any of my men got themselves in a dangerous situation or worse.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Amy

  I decided waitressing again at the Thirsty Turtle wasn’t so bad after all. Jane gave me the most lucrative shifts, the ones filled with business men who brought clients out for drinks. I also worked every Saturday night which was when the real money rolled in, and Jane had hired a new bouncer named Dick Hardon. I know, but pity the man who said anything to his face. Big and brawny, with shoulders like a steam ship and hands big as my whole head, I knew Dick would keep me safe.

  I still hated the fact that I was a cocktail waitress. Again. Hated the slinky dress they called a uniform. Hated the low lights. The loud music. The smoke!

  This wasn’t how I envisioned my life. I knew lots of girls my age loved working the Thirsty Turtle. All they saw was the money. I wasn’t one of them. Well, I was and I wasn’t. I knew what I wanted out of life. Had known ever since I was nine. I wanted to travel. I wanted to teach all over the world, really make a difference in people’s lives. Before Dad’s accident, I was offered an internship in Guatemala. A little too late, I wasn’t going anywhere now—not when I was dad’s only living relative. I couldn’t abandon him. I just couldn’t.

  I’d wracked my brain trying to think of another way to make money but I kept coming back to the same solution. How else could make five hundred dollars a night? For the first time in my life, money meant everything to me. If I had enough, I could save my father’s home, perhaps even afford a private nurse so we could live together again. I couldn’t do that if there was no home to bring him to.

  Placing two scotches, a whiskey, and a couple of coke-and-rums on my tray, I smiled at Jane who was serving behind the bar tonight.

  “Six months,” Jane said. “Nine months tops. You can do this.”

  I adjusted my breasts inside the low-cut black dress, and pulled the skirt down in the back. “I can’t believe I’m doing this but what choice do I have? If can hold off the bank for just a little while and work my ass off without losing my temper, I’m golden. Right?”

  “And it’s not forever. Just remember that.”

  “I will.” I plastered on my best fake smile and took my skinny, short-skirted self over to a table of six men, three of whom eyed me like I was the best steak in town, their eyes glowed with menace beneath an overhead light. A dozen eyes scanned me up and down. One stroked his beard and made kissing noises. I pretended not to notice while I set the drinks on the table.

  The Beard-Puller licked his lips. “Come here, doll,” he said reaching toward me. I gave him a polite smile and then removed his other hand, which had slipped between my legs. It was all I could do not to slam that tray over his head—but then that wouldn’t get me any tips would it?

  My jaw clenched as I reined in my anger.

  Judging by leather wing tip shoes, the silk tie and woolen grey suit, the guy was rich. Filthy rich and I knew he would tip big if I just played along.

  But I couldn’t.

  “Let go of me,” I said, staring down at another hand clutching my thigh. Beard-Puller chuckled, but then let go of his own accord. He took a swig of his whiskey.

  “Awe, she’s skittish,” said the a bald headed man. “Probably knows how tiny your dick is, Pete. Come here, sweetie. Let me show you what a real man feels like.” I took a step back but not before the one called Pete pulled me into his lap.

  Oh shit!

  He smelled of liquor and nachos and the stench of his breath made my stomach crawl. To my horror, something else was straining to get free. Pete laughed. “See that, pretty lady. That aint a snake wriggling underneath ya. That’s an anaconda! Let me show you how to tame that nasty beast!”

  “In your dreams, Pete,” said the bald guy. “She needs a real man to put that smile back on her face.”

  I made to rise but his arms tightened like a vise. Terrified, I searched the dance floor, not making eye contact with any of them.

  “I won’t bite,” Pete said. “Just want to have a little fun is all. Why don’t you and me go out back to my limo and take it for a spin, eh? I’ve got a lot of room in there. You can stretch out your pretty little body from head to toe.” His hand slid up my leg and though I tried to remove it, he had a vice-like grip.

  Steadying my nerves, I tried another tactic. I “I don’t know, Pete. Your friend over there says your prick is too small. Maybe if we can find a magnifying glass it can come out and play, hmm?” The four spectators burst into raucous laughter and Pete tightened his grip on me.

  “She’s got your number Pete,” said one.

  “Think
you’ve met your match with that hellcat,” said another.

  “Maybe she needs us all to take her on,” said Pete.

  “I wouldn’t touch the lot of you if my life depended on it. Fucking let go of me,” I hissed. “Now, you asshole!”

  “Then just you and me huh,” said Pete in a calm matter-of-fact tone.

  For the first time, I let myself look up at him, hoping there was some form of humanity there and not a sleezeball who simply abused women. What I saw was determined hooded eyes, a set jaw, and a chest that was rising and falling. The fucker was aroused as hell! I’m gonna kill Jane for making me work here again. And where the hell is Dick?

  The digits on Pete’s right hand dug into my waist while his other groped my left breast. He tried to kiss me, his breath, reeking of stale whiskey that sliced into my cheek.

  I struggled to get free but he just laughed and pinched my nipple through me dress. When he licked the side of my neck I thought I would be sick.

  Suddenly, someone pulled me off Pete’s lap, yanked him out of his chair, and in my peripheral vision I saw a fist smashing into his face.

  It happened so fast I was temporarily off-balance. Reeling back against the wall, I stared at my stunned would-be-molester sprawled across the floor. He rubbed his bruised jaw as a tickle of blood pooled in the corner of his lip. “What the…Who the fuck are you, pipsqueak?”

  Pipsqueak?

  I grinned at my champion. “Mateo?”

  He pulled me behind him as Pete struggled to his feet. “You okay?” he asked, the evil glare directed at Pete before he glanced back at me for just a second.

  “I’m okay. Thank you but watch—”

  No sooner had I opened my mouth then Pete had launched himself onto Mateo. He got in one good punch in before Dick appeared, snatched him off Mateo’s chest, and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “I told you no fighting! You ass wipes!”