by Regan Black
“Your apartment’s ready?” he asked.
The confusion in his voice made her pause. “Well, no.”
“Then why would you move out?”
She’d just told him. “Because of the circling sharks,” she replied, exasperated.
“You sound tired,” he stated.
“I am.” Tired of being hounded and hassled by a man who kept getting away with it.
“What’s wrong, Kenzie?”
The tenderness in Stephen’s voice undid her. She supposed it was better if he didn’t hear it from the reporters. “Someone has been on a mission spreading lies and nasty pictures online, demeaning my work and my character. The media is circling your place hoping to get a comment.”
“Great.”
“They’d be happier if they caught me in the act of performing some sexual service, too.”
He swore.
“I agree completely,” she said. “The PFD may take disciplinary action.”
“Against you?” He slammed something that clanged loudly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His outraged confidence in her innocence made her feel warm all over. She appreciated that his first reaction was belief in her. “I’m told appearances matter in public and community relations. More process and systems to work through. I haven’t been dumped back on admin leave yet. Given enough time, they should figure out I’m not the problem, and any investigation or disciplinary hearing will end in my favor.” She wished she believed that.
The silence on his end made her think the call had been dropped. More likely he’d hung up, except her screen showed he was still there. “Stephen?”
“Mitch is on shift with you?”
“Yes.”
“Have him take you to his place after work.”
She supposed it made sense, although she didn’t want to crash with newlyweds. Especially not after she’d slept with her friend’s brother. “What about the loaner car?”
“I’ll pick it up from the firehouse later.”
“Hang on,” she said. “I can’t do that. If the media catches me riding home with Mitch it will only add fuel and credibility to the nasty rumors.” She understood Stephen didn’t want her at the garage, yet staying with Mitch wasn’t the answer.
“I don’t want you dealing with this alone,” he said.
“Thanks. At the moment I don’t see an alternative.” The alert rang through the firehouse as another call came in. “Gotta go. I’ll check in later.”
She pushed the conversation and the soft feelings Stephen’s concern left behind to the back of her mind. If they wanted to sideline her again, they’d have to catch her first.
* * *
Stephen sent a text to Mitch, knowing it would be a while before his brother could reply if they were headed out on a call. It couldn’t be as bad as she thought, although... His gaze drifted to the monitors showing media vans completely circling his block. Maybe it was.
At the computer, he typed Kenzie’s name into the search box and sat back as the results flooded his screen. The articles and pictures left him shell-shocked. The outrageous claims and ugly insinuations made him want to toss his monitor through the window. This was a blatant attack by a coward hiding behind a keyboard. He closed the various windows and cleared the search from the computer history.
It had to be Murtagh. Stephen fisted his hands on the desktop, wishing he had a direct target.
He agreed with her that processes and systems were lousy words when she was under the pressure of this obnoxious, damaging bullying. He might not like the media attention personally, but he could ride it out for her sake.
She sure as hell couldn’t go anywhere else in town and have the protection his fence and security offered her. He had to come up with a better solution than letting her cope with the chaos alone.
Picking up the phone, he called Grant for an assist. With luck, the former cop knew someone capable of unraveling the cyber side of this mess. A few minutes later, Stephen was relieved to hear Grant had already set things in motion.
Next, he dialed Joey Garcia at the paint and body shop and called in a favor. If he could get Kenzie back home without being harassed by any reporters, maybe she’d understand she really did have someone in her corner.
Although he might not be in the market for a real relationship, he sure as hell knew how to be a good friend.
* * *
Kenzie was overwhelmed by the warm fuzzy feelings of being cared for. She was used to doing more than pulling her own weight in any circumstance, and made a habit of handling her life on her terms. Stephen had stepped up in a big way. She still wasn’t sure how he’d done it, leaving her one of Joey Garcia’s showy street racer mods for the end of her shift, and instructions to drive to Joey’s shop rather than Galway Automotive.
At Garcia’s warehouse, behind the shelter of a closed bay door, Stephen had been waiting for her. He took her backpack out of her hands and led her to another of Joey’s cars, this one with tinted windows. Once he was sure no one from the media had caught on, he drove her over to Mitch and Julia’s house.
The four of them had enjoyed a pasta dinner with all the trimmings, complete with gelato for dessert. They played a couple card games, and the only hard-and-fast rule of the night was no one could mention anything about Murtagh or work in general. It had been pure bliss.
After reversing the cars on the way back, he got her safely behind the fence surrounding the garage. When she’d tried to thank him, to let him know how much the evening meant to her, he only gave her a slow, bone-melting kiss at the camper door and told her to get some rest.
What was she supposed to think when he did things like that? She’d known he was one of those rare men in the world who knew when and how to do just the right thing, but this was an unexpected, charming side of him.
As she undressed, she’d found it easier to follow his instructions to rest, after such a relaxing evening. She’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep thinking of Stephen. He was her first thought in the morning, too, even before she checked her phone to see if the PFD had put her back on admin leave.
Not yet.
She hustled through her morning routine, eager to get to the firehouse as early as possible. The Charger was waiting in front of the camper with a big Galway Automotive For Sale sign in the rear window. She’d laughed, happy for him to get some free publicity if the media followed her today. Advertising potential aside, she was relieved to find the streets in front of the garage and the firehouse media-free.
The station wasn’t as busy today as they’d been yesterday, and she found she didn’t need the busyness with this lingering, overall good feeling. Every hour she was on duty gave her hope that the PFD would see through the obnoxious cyberbullying tactics and let her stay on the job.
Late in the afternoon they were all worn-out from clearing a faulty smoke detector system in a nearby apartment building. As the driver slowed to make the turn to the firehouse, he brought the truck to a stop. Hearing Lieutenant Jennings curse from his seat up front, Kenzie twisted around to see what had upset them.
Hate messages aimed at her had been scrawled across the white garage door in red spray paint. Murtagh, or some knucklehead sharing his views, had made his displeasure with female firefighters quite plain. Her stomach churned at this direct assault on all of them as a house.
Naturally, the graffiti meant the vultures, in the form of news crews, had returned. Vans were stationed across the street, and cameramen and reporters were jockeying for the best angle, no doubt getting prime footage to go along with their endless opinions of her PFD career. Thankfully, none of the reporters seemed to be interviewing Murtagh.
There was no question in Kenzie’s mind who had done this. Her first hope was that Murtagh had finally been caught in the act of causing trouble. That would be a far better spin on this biz
arre story than the hateful messages against women who served the city with skill and commitment. Secondary to that, she hoped the men and women she worked with and for wouldn’t hold this against her.
For the first time, she gave serious thought to moving away. Not wishful thinking because she was discouraged this time. No, as the idea rolled through her mind it gained momentum and substance. She could relocate and find work in another state. Maybe down in Maryland, closer to her mom and sister. She liked that area, although joining another fire department would depend on how well she could clean up the cyberbullying trash.
As the door rolled up and the truck parked in the bay, she joined the rest of her crew resetting everything for the next call.
Mitch rapped her gently on the shoulder. “It’ll pass,” he said. “We’ve got your back.”
“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure she believed that it would pass. It seemed like every time things went her way Murtagh did something worse to impede her forward progress. Why was he so damn fixated on her?
“I’ll get started on the cleanup right away,” she said. Erasing Murtagh’s hate would give her time to think through the potentially tough choices right in front of her. She felt like she was at a crossroads and she couldn’t see enough to know which direction was best.
Chief Anderson found her in the supply room. “I need a word with you.”
“Yes, sir.” Misery dogging her, she followed him to his office and closed the door.
“You know you’re important to this house, to everyone in it?”
She swallowed. He’d said that yesterday. “Yes.” Attempting to say anything more than that single syllable put her emotions too close to the surface.
“We have security cameras, as you know, but the footage isn’t clear.” Anderson clutched the arms of his chair. “The one camera with the best angle was found broken this morning. We haven’t had time to get it fixed. I’ve spoken with the police and they will canvas the area for any witnesses or leads.”
She bit back the urge to toss accusations at Murtagh. The chief knew every lousy thing that had been said about her no matter if it was graffiti on a door, online, or in a formal complaint.
“Those are the facts,” the chief said.
“Okay.” She pressed her lips together, willing the trembling to stop.
“You’re an excellent firefighter, Kenzie.”
“Thank you, sir.” Using her first name meant he was attempting to soften tough news. Again. She shifted toward the door. “I’ll get on that cleanup,” she interjected.
“I’ve already called a professional. You can help if they let you.”
She focused on the option to help, clinging to every ounce of positive. That meant he expected her to be here when the professionals arrived.
“I’ve been asked to put you on administrative leave again.”
That last bit of hope burst like a balloon. Kenzie stifled the automatic protest. Chief Anderson spoke plainly. He reminded her of Grant in that habit.
“I negotiated a compromise. You can be here on shift. You just won’t go on calls.”
What good would that do her, the house or the PFD? “I’ll brush up on my cooking skills,” she said.
“Everyone up the line believes Murtagh is behind this. This is not a disciplinary action,” he said. “We’re taking these measures to protect you.”
“Of course. I appreciate it, sir.”
“If I could haul Murtagh in here and make him scrub those obscenities away with a toothbrush, I would.”
She nodded, the image lightening the burden just a little. She wasn’t in this alone. With this stunt, Murtagh had attacked everyone at this house and earned the enduring displeasure of the PFD as a whole. Whatever he thought he could gain by forcing her out of her career, this wasn’t the way to get it.
She steeled herself to ask her only remaining question. “Chief, if I were to relocate, would the PFD provide a good reference?”
He sat back in his chair, studying her. “You want to leave Philly?”
“Not at all.” She straightened her shoulders. “I just feel it’s smart to consider the option for the sake of the PFD as well as myself.”
The chief pinched the bridge of his nose. “I sure as hell hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said. “Your exemplary record of service stands on its own and I believe any reference would reflect that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She left the office on unsteady knees, inordinately relieved and wondering what Murtagh would try next. In the kitchen she took an inventory, making a shopping list. When the professional cleaning crew arrived she went out and insisted on helping.
By end of shift, Mitch followed her home, and she returned to Stephen’s garage too tired to be angry about any of it.
Stephen stepped out of the office as soon as she parked in front of the camper. Did he have to look so sexy leaning against that door? She knew they should talk about what was brewing between them, specifically where they stood after that amazing bout of sex. Surely a conversation like that could wait until tomorrow.
“You okay?”
She paused at the camper steps. “Mitch called you.”
Stephen nodded. “Sent a picture, too.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Kenzie wanted to scream. She wanted to go inside and indulge in a private, ugly cry to clean the emotional slate so she could go back to being strong and stoic tomorrow.
“There’s smothered chicken casserole in the oven,” Stephen said. “Salad in the fridge.” He gave her another long look and then stepped back into the office.
She gaped at him. “Thanks,” she called out belatedly.
“Welcome.”
She stared at the closed door, knowing it wasn’t locked. He kept it open, as promised, in case she ever needed anything in the night.
She suspected that what she really needed—communication, intimacy, connection—he wasn’t ready or able to give. With an effort, she marched into the camper, intending to take a shower before she bothered with food.
The space smelled heavenly with the comforting aromas of garlic, paprika and bacon. She opened the refrigerator and found a bottle of white wine beside the salad. Mitch might have given him a warning, but just like last night, Stephen had stepped up on his own. It scared her to realize she could get used to this...this care and affection. He was inherently kind and thoughtful, and just kept those aspects buried under the scowl and brusque conversations to keep people at arm’s length. She loved all those variations of him.
If—when—she moved away, she’d miss this almost-friends-with-benefits thing they were dancing around. Given time and less baggage, they might have a chance at something more. Unfortunately, this was where they were, who they were, and she’d be better off accepting reality.
Shaking off the melancholy, she pulled the plastic container she’d brought from work out of her backpack. She’d had plenty of time in the kitchen after the graffiti cleanup was done, and used the time to bake several batches of chocolate chip cookies, using her new favorite recipe from Shannon, the soon-to-be Mrs. Daniel Jennings.
Kenzie sank into the bench seat at the table. How was she ever going to leave the PFD family she loved so much? This city was her birthright, and she’d earned her place as a firefighter. Contrary to Murtagh’s poisonous claims, no one had handed her a spot simply because she was Ken Hughes’s daughter. The opposite, really. It hadn’t been easy to walk in the wake of a man so well-respected.
Wrapping two cookies in a paper towel for herself, she took the remaining four in the container over to the office and knocked on the door. It opened quickly, as if Stephen had been standing right there waiting for her. It was a nice fantasy.
“I thought you’d like these,” she said. “Chocolate chip cookies,” she added unnecessarily, as he popped the top and the sweet aroma of d
ark chocolate goodness wafted up between them. “Thanks for making sure I had dinner.”
“You made these?”
“Slow shift,” she replied with a shrug.
He braced a shoulder against the doorjamb and his lips gave a subtle kick at one corner. “My sisters call it stress baking.”
“They might be right,” she allowed. “Good night, Stephen.”
Those hazel eyes heated as he studied her. “Thanks for delivering dessert.”
“Sure. Enjoy.” She took a step backward toward the safety of the camper. That hungry look in his eyes made her want to grab him and kiss him and enjoy an altogether different type of dessert. One mistake of that variety was probably more than enough for both of them, no matter what her hormones and heart were saying about it right now.
Working light duty within the safety of the firehouse was almost worse than being forced to stay away completely. Almost. She made it through her overnight shift without any additional Murtagh-related antics. Unfortunately, according to her lawyer and Grant, progress was slow on the cyberbullying investigation. Although the nude photo had been found posted on several stock image websites, obviously the source, it was only one piece of that puzzle.
On Thursday, her first day off from the PFD, she hit the garage early because some of the parts for the Nova had come in. Between standard maintenance jobs, she was working through the initial assessment of the classic car.
In the garage, she set an alarm so she would stop work in time to clean up and change for her scheduled shift at the Escape Club. When the clanging bell sound interrupted the heavy metal music Stephen had cranked up, she turned it off and finished up an oil change for one of Stephen’s regular customers. “All set here for Mrs. Giaconne,” she called. “Want me to make the call for her to pick it up?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Stephen replied.
“Great.” Kenzie stripped out of the protective coveralls, feeling Stephen’s gaze tracking her movements. It gave her a charge to know he appreciated the view. And it was a pleasant diversion from the reason she was suddenly underfoot, invading his space again. No one wanted her going anywhere alone right now.