by Regan Black
Kenzie brushed the crumbs from her fingertips. “Stephen is confident pressing charges will help.”
“Good. What are you confident about?”
“That I won’t let him win. His showing up here was definitely a shock,” she admitted. “I’ve wondered if I should announce my resignation from the PFD.”
“Do you want to quit?”
“No.” She traced the rim of her coffee cup. “My thought was if he thinks I’ve quit, he’ll stop this nonsense.”
“And the people you care about will be safe,” Myra observed.
Kenzie nodded.
“Stephen maintains excellent security. He beefed it up when those car thieves were plaguing the city.”
Kenzie swallowed a laugh. “Mitch was miserable when two of the cars the guys had rebuilt were stolen from their customers.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Myra rolled her eyes. “Sunday dinners were borderline morose for a time.”
In more comfortable conversational territory, the two women chattered on. The normality of it was as reassuring and fun as if Kenzie was hanging out with her own mother and her sister. By the time Stephen returned, she had almost forgotten why he’d been gone. It had been a wonderful couple of hours.
* * *
Stephen found his mother and Kenzie in the office, laughing over something they claimed he wouldn’t understand. He managed not to point out that he wanted to understand every intriguing facet of Kenzie. Once they’d both said goodbye to his mom, Kenzie went to change for her shift at the club and Stephen prepared for an afternoon in the shop.
“Thank you for pressing charges,” Kenzie said, when she walked back into the office dressed in her Escape Club uniform. “I’m sorry Murtagh’s issue with me spilled over on you. The cleanup crew should be here by noon.”
“It’s not your fault, Kenzie. I’m glad he won’t be able to squeak through the cracks again. You’ll be able to get back to your life.”
Once Murtagh was finally buttoned up she’d be safe. As safe as she could be in her career of choice, anyway.
“Back to my life?” she echoed.
“That’s what you want,” he pointed out. Since the day he’d towed her car, her every decision and action had been moving her closer to getting back on shift with the PFD.
She looked past him to the shop beyond the door and then her gaze roamed the office, including the couch he hadn’t slept on since the bomb threat. Had his mother noticed that detail?
Stephen could tell Kenzie expected him to say something more, but what? Of course he’d miss her when she left. He was addicted to her laughter, and when her eyes sparkled as she smiled, all the tension faded out of his body. He hoped she’d make time to keep working on projects like the Nova. Maybe she’d agree to dinner once in a while.
The woman had destroyed his solitude and he didn’t even mind.
“What if it worked out?” she asked quietly. “You and me. We’re good together, Stephen.”
What if?
Every time she returned from a shift at the firehouse or the club, he felt such a wave of joy and gratitude mixed with relief. When she handed him a cup of coffee or a message about an appointment or a potential sale, he felt her presence like his own personal sunbeam. Strong or not, he wasn’t ready to put any of that pressure of his past on her shoulders, and he didn’t know how to put any of it into words.
“I love you,” she said.
Those were the words.
She tipped her head, watching him. “Did you hear me?”
Yes. Of course he’d heard her. The words were bouncing around and through and over the rubble of the wall that had protected his heart since violence had destroyed all his plans with Annabeth. When had Kenzie knocked it down?
“Kenzie.” This was too sudden. He still hadn’t figured out whether or not he was up for another relationship. What if? What if she went to work and didn’t come home? He couldn’t survive another tragedy. Not now that his heart was all open and vulnerable to her every word and action.
“You know what?” She plucked the keys to her restored compact from the wall hook.
Joey had brought that back with the Camaro, but Stephen hadn’t reached out to the buyer yet.
“Forget I said anything,” she continued, with an eerie calm. “You’ve been a great help to me during a trying time. I’ll always appreciate that.” Unshed tears glistened in her big blue eyes. “Take care.”
He’d made her cry? He didn’t think that was possible; she was so tough. Tougher than he could ever be.
“Kenzie.” She was long gone by the time he jerked himself away from that paralyzing fear and moved to follow her.
He swore and was turning back to grab his keys when his eyes latched on to movement on the security monitor. As Kenzie drove away, Murtagh got into his car and followed her.
Why wasn’t the bastard in police custody?
Dread surged through Stephen’s system. He snagged his phone and his keys and set off after Murtagh.
In the car he called Kenzie’s cell phone, but she didn’t pick up. He hadn’t held out much hope that she would. Clearly, she was furious and rightly so. He’d screwed up everything. He called Grant next, only to hear another voice mail message. At the tone, he gave Grant the basic information and then he called the police, reporting Murtagh’s plate number along with a description of the car.
He stayed on Murtagh’s tail, grateful Kenzie was several car lengths ahead of them. If he couldn’t do anything right in a relationship, at least he could distract the jerk hassling her. Stephen should have been doing a better job of that all along, per Grant’s original request.
He’d gone and fallen in love with her and then chickened out when she called him on it. For the first time, he realized he wanted her in his life more than he wanted to protect himself from further pain.
He couldn’t let Murtagh succeed, whether or not Kenzie ever understood his belated epiphany. Although she deserved far more, stopping Murtagh was the first step to keeping her.
They were almost through the cramped streets downtown when Kenzie turned for the club and Murtagh turned the opposite way. Stephen followed him. Using the hands-free commands, he kept calling Kenzie’s number, though she continued to ignore him.
Ahead of him, Murtagh sped up and took turns at the last second, clearly trying to lose him. Fortunately, Stephen’s street racing skills were still sharp. Murtagh wasn’t breaking any laws, though his aggressive driving and Stephen’s efforts to stick with him earned them both plenty of honking horns from other nervous and perturbed drivers.
Murtagh gained some space by running a red light, and Stephen chose to stop rather than risk a serious accident. By now Kenzie should be safe at the Escape Club anyway, likely getting an update from Grant that the police had let Murtagh walk.
Stephen tried to pick up the trail again and when he couldn’t find any sign of the man or his car, he eventually turned toward the club.
Midday, it was early enough that she had time to talk. Well, time to listen. She’d had the guts to speak plainly and it was his turn. His heart stuttered as he practiced the words he’d never thought to give to another woman. “I love you, Kenzie.”
It sounded right in the quiet Challenger. He could only hope she’d believe him and forgive his blunder.
There were a couple cars next to Grant’s over in the employee area, including the Mustang they’d sold to Jason. Stephen parked next to Kenzie’s little sedan at the kitchen entrance. He walked up and when he pulled on the door, found it locked.
“Come on!” He glared at the security camera. “Let me in.”
A moment later the door swung open to reveal Grant, his mouth set in a grim line. “Got your messages.”
Stephen shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers curling around his car keys. “Hopefully, the police w
ill pick him up soon.”
“Agreed.” Grant’s stocky build blocked the doorway. “Is that all you needed?”
“I need to speak with Kenzie.”
“She gave me the impression she doesn’t want to speak with you.”
“Then she can listen,” Stephen snapped. “This is personal, Grant.” And urgent. He couldn’t let her wonder about him any longer.
Grant’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows lifted and he stepped back so Stephen could enter. “My guess is you’ll need to do some groveling,” he said in an undertone. “She’s helping Jason prep at the bar.”
An ugly surge of jealousy reared up in him. It was hard to believe at one point he’d wanted to push her toward the assistant manager. He’d been an idiot.
“Is she even on the schedule tonight?” Stephen wondered.
“I’ll go check.” Grant turned down the hall to his office.
His heart hammering erratically in his chest, Stephen hurried into the empty club. Kenzie sat at the end of the bar, laughing with Jason. Jealousy took another swipe at him, but he ignored it. Kenzie didn’t play coy games. She said what she meant, and she’d said she loved him.
He paused, wishing he’d changed out of his grimy garage clothes. Next to Jason, he looked like...well, exactly what he was, a mechanic. “Can I talk to you? Privately.”
She tipped her head toward the front doors, which would be open soon. “We need to finish this prep.”
“The band isn’t even here yet,” Jason muttered. “Give him a break.”
“I have,” she whispered fiercely as she slid off the bar stool.
Stephen soaked up every nuance as she approached, grateful to have another chance. Her eyes were bright, with temper now instead of tears as she stared up at him.
She folded her arms over her chest. “So talk.”
“Did you listen to my messages?”
“I deleted them.”
“Good.” He didn’t want her to think he was here only because of Murtagh. “You mean everything to me, Kenzie. I didn’t expect to feel this way again.”
Her jaw set and her fingertips flexed into her upper arms as if she was trying to keep herself in check. Again was the wrong word. His feelings for her were beyond the scope of his experience. He pushed a hand through his hair.
Suddenly, he tugged her into the shadow of the hallway, out of Jason’s view. He couldn’t do this with an audience. She was stiff under his hands and he released her immediately.
“Again is the wrong word, but it’s right, too. I did love Annabeth.”
“I should hope so,” she snapped.
“This. Us.” He cleared his throat. “What I feel for you is so much more that it scares me. You are so tough, so vibrant.” Wishing she’d let him touch her, he plowed on. “I didn’t think I deserved a second chance after...” He left that unfinished.
She blinked, her gaze on the ceiling and her teeth biting into her lip. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He shook his head. This wasn’t about the past; it was about the future. Their future. What could he say to convince her to stick with him? “I screwed up back at the shop,” he said, starting over. “I won’t make excuses for it and I’ll probably screw up a hundred times more by the end of next week.”
Her lips quirked up, though she caught the smile before it broke free.
“Only this matters.” He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “I love you, Kenzie.”
Her lips parted on a startled gasp.
He hated that the ghosts of his past had left her doubting. “I love you so much that I tried to deny it in some ill-advised attempt at self-preservation. Being safe isn’t living all out. You reminded me of that essential lesson. Forgive me?”
“Stephen.”
That was all, just his name. Those two syllables were as sweet as any touch of her amazing hands. He started to say something more, when an explosion rocked the kitchen.
Shouts of “fire” came a moment before the first belch of smoke hit the hallway. She started toward the kitchen, but Stephen caught her and pulled her behind him.
Murtagh stalked toward them from the emergency exit and the gun in his hand was pointed at Stephen.
“Get out of here,” Stephen said to Kenzie. “Go.”
“Look, I created a crisis, Hughes. Go fix it,” the man dared. “Be the pretty hero if you can.”
Stephen felt Kenzie shift behind him. “You picked the wrong target,” he said.
“If female firefighters can do anything, prove it,” Murtagh shouted. “Prove it!”
“How in the hell do you keep getting into my club?” Grant’s voice roared above the sound of the fire and the clanging alarm as he charged up behind them.
Too late, Stephen saw Murtagh’s finger squeeze the trigger, and he shouted a warning. The lethal black muzzle of the gun flashed and Stephen tried to shelter Kenzie. He didn’t care about her training, only about getting her out of here alive.
Grant swore, skidding to a stop in front of them, his arms spread protectively as Murtagh threatened to shoot again. “You’ll never get away with this. Put down the gun and we can reduce the damage here.”
“Hand her over.” Murtagh coughed as the smoke choked the hallway. “Let her prove what an asset she is to the city.”
* * *
Kenzie had been with this man in a fire before. If she didn’t do something soon, none of them would be walking away. It took a concerted effort, but she wedged herself between the bigger bodies of Grant and Stephen. “What do you need, Randall?” she asked in that easygoing tone she’d used before. “Let’s go outside and talk about it.”
“You took my job!” Spittle gathered in the corners of his lips.
She swallowed her first instinct to point out that was a preposterous claim. He was beyond logic. She thought about Myra’s assessment of rock bottom. Murtagh kept sinking, finding new lows. She’d seen it in the earlier fire.
“Did you set the fire in the kitchen?” she asked conversationally.
“Yes!”
“Why don’t you help me put it out?” she offered. The faint sounds of fire engine sirens were growing louder. “We can be heroes together.” She shifted toward the kitchen, relieved to draw his attention from Stephen and Grant. “Think how pleased the PFD will be.”
The smoke was stinging her nose, burning her lungs, yet she wouldn’t quit. Despite his desperate actions recently, Randall Murtagh had once been a valued member of the PFD and community at large.
He snorted “No female can equal a man in a crisis.” He waved the gun at Stephen and Grant. “Once again, two men have stepped up to shelter you.”
She spread her arms wide. “Randall, I’m right here, out front. Let’s go do this.”
“You will be.” Coughing again, he used the gun to gesture for the three of them to move into the empty club. “Go on.”
“Run,” Stephen whispered, moving between her and Murtagh as much as he dared.
“No.” She wasn’t going anywhere without him. Or Grant. At least in the club, the air was clearer as the smoke rose to the rafters.
Grant slowed his steps. “Whatever has you upset, Randall, we can sort it out. Just put the gun down.”
“It’s too late for that,” Murtagh said woodenly. He lined them up against the bar.
Kenzie had heard that tone from him before, through the filter of her turnout gear. Suddenly it all clicked. His deliberate resistance in that fire, his focused pursuit of her ever since. “You didn’t want to be saved that day.”
“Of course I didn’t!” Randall screamed.
Crap. This changed everything. He was willing to die, eager for it, and he had no qualms about taking them along with him.
He doubled over, clutching his head. Grant moved in, but Murtagh stood up. “Back off!” He leveled the gun
at Kenzie. “You showed up with your idealistic persistence and made everything worse. You.”
“It’s not her fault you’re an arsonist,” Stephen said, distracting Murtagh as he squeezed the trigger again. The bullet went wide, shattering the transom over the club’s front doors.
Murtagh pressed the hot muzzle of his gun to Stephen’s chest. “On your knees.”
“No.” Kenzie felt tears on her cheeks as Stephen obeyed. “Randall, let him go. Let them both go. This is between you and me.”
To her relief, he lowered the weapon, leaving a small burn mark on Stephen’s T-shirt. They were hardly out of danger. A telltale sound overhead drew her attention. The fire was chewing through the roof. They had to get out of here.
Though Murtagh lowered the gun, he maintained control. If they tried to run, he could shoot at will. There wasn’t enough cover between their position and the front door. The hallway was black with smoke, emergency lights glowing.
“Randall, let’s go,” she said quietly.
“It’s too late,” Murtagh was saying. “You can’t do anything. This will show the city and the world that females should not be trusted to fight fires.”
“I certainly can’t do anything when you’re holding me at gunpoint. Let these guys go. They don’t know how to put out this fire.”
“No.” Murtagh shook his head, then groaned as if that caused him great pain. “They should know they backed the wrong dog in this fight.”
Clearly, reasoning with him was out of the question. “You’ve made your point,” she said, willing to plead, to do anything to save Stephen and Grant. “We need to get out of here.”
“Are you scared?” Murtagh leaned close.
“Yes.” Though not at all for the reasons he probably believed. She was afraid for the people fighting the fire in the kitchen. She knew real fear that Stephen and Grant were being targeted by a man who wanted only her.
“Good.” He was nearly nose to nose with her.
Beside her, still on his knees, she felt Stephen’s hand on her calf. The touch steadied her. “What do you want from me?” she asked.
“Just the last few minutes of your life,” he said, suddenly calm. “You should thank me for allowing your friend and overprotective lover to join us.”