by Wendy Stone
"Mackenzie Hunter,” he said quietly, enjoying her name. She was an enigma, hot as hell in his arms in that warehouse but she'd stonewalled him last night. She'd eaten his pizza, talked to him, hell she'd even laughed at him, but when he'd asked her out, she'd gone cold.
He turned when the mirror fogged over with steam, stepping into the hot water with a sigh of relief. His shoulder ached and his right leg twinged, reminding him of the bullet that had almost taken his life. He turned, letting the water soak into him, letting the heat relieve some of the worst of it before grabbing the soap and getting cleaned up.
Twenty minutes later, it was a much different looking Gideon Hawkins that locked his apartment door, by passing the elevator to run the ten flights of stairs down to the lobby of his building. He passed his door man, Fred Grayson.
"Hey, Hawk, I see you got him,” Fred called, lifting up his copy of the Press. “Great job."
"Yeah, thanks. Press got a hold of it already,” he sighed, shaking his head. News people were the bane of his job.
"That sassy Mackenzie Hunter got front page,” Fred grinned. He'd been drooling over Kenzie since he'd first seen her picture.
"You know Mackenzie Hunter?” Hawk asked, slowing his step and turning back to Fred.
"No, but oh do I wish I did.” He clutched the paper to his heart, sighing dramatically. “I saw her on this awards show once on the television. She's got the best set of tits I've ever seen."
Hawk wondered what Fred would say if he knew that he'd been fondling those very same tits last night. “She seems pretty gutsy."
"Too gutsy. Considering what she says in this article, she was right there when the cops broke down the doors of the warehouse. She could have gotten shot.” Fred shook his head. “Wait, that was your deal. Did you get to meet her?"
"I gotta go, Fred,” Hawk said, turning away without giving an answer. “Talk to you later."
"Wait a second, you did get to didn't you? Oh come on, Hawk, give me something,” Fred called as Hawk hurried down the front walk towards his car.
Hawk just waved and kept going.
Traffic was light this morning and he made good time getting to the office, parking his car in the underground parking lot he grabbed the elevator up to the fifth floor. He needed time to review his notes on the case in court today, and it was quiet enough to give him the chance.
It wasn't until he reached his desk that he saw the smoke.
* * * *
Two blocks over, kids were getting ready to go to school, parents were hustling them into clothing and through breakfast, anxious to get to work. Television sets were blaring, babies were crying for breakfast and one man stood in a bare stairwell, a small can empty of its gasoline sitting next to him. He played with his lighter, flipping it open and closed, staring at the streamers of gas that he'd trailed up and down these stairs.
The smell saturated his nose; it crept into his senses and made him moan as only a well known lover could do. The sounds of the building, the creak of pipes, the voices of the people, the clattering of dishes and the raucous noise of all those televisions assaulted his ears. Fire would be his vengeance. Fire would stop the voices, stop the attacks and make them sorry.
Fire...his fire.
The lighter opened and he flicked the round wheel, sending a spark to the wick. With glee, he watched it ignite, the smell of the lighter fluid a different kind of lover. With a tiny giggle of insanity, he set the flame to the gas on the carpeted steps of the old building and watched it flare.
Then the dragon was loose, free to eat, to consume and render, to tear at the bowels of the building and its incessant noise. He watched it for a few short moments, his hand slowly stroking over his hard cock, wishing he could free himself and stroke to climax here, to feed the fire with his seed. But that could leave a clue for the police and firemen and he couldn't do that, not if he wanted to stay free.
He had to stay free. He had to or else the noise would take him over and he would lose himself forever. Picking up the gas can, he turned it on its end so that any gasoline would drip out, leaving it sitting on one of the stairs after wiping it down one last time to rid it of any fingerprints. Then he hurried down the stairs, pushing through the outside door, he stripped off the gloves and pushed the lighter back in his pocket.
He turned to walk away, refusing to look back even though the sound of the fire called to him, whispered insidiously to him. He'd come back, but only after the fire trucks were there, only when he could see his greatness written in the black inky smoke that would stain the sky.
* * * *
Mackenzie made great time across the city, running when her cab got caught in traffic, arriving at the scene of the fire within seconds of the first ladder truck. She watched, horrified, as people streamed out of the burning building, hearing the shattering of glass, the screams of those still inside, the snapping and hissing of the fire. The smell, heavy and terrifying, clung in the air, smoke making the people that escaped, cough and hack when they reached fresh air.
She wandered among those who'd made it out, listening, asking questions when she could, already writing the story in her head.
"That's him."
Her head shot up and she shamelessly listened in to the conversation.
"Yeah, it is. That's the guy I saw leaving when I came in this morning. I don't think he lives here."
"Where are the cops? He's probably the guy who set the fire. Didn't you say you smelled gasoline?"
Mackenzie looked over to where the woman had pointed, seeing the alley that led behind the building. A figure crept back into there, a man. She hurried across the street, ducking behind the yellow barricade and slipped into the alley with the stranger.
For a moment, she lost him in the smoke blown about by the freshening wind. Then she caught a glimpse as he turned, their eyes meeting before he turned and scuttled away.
"Help!"
Hearing the sound of a woman's voice Mackenzie glanced up. The fire escape had been let down by people fleeing the fire. Three stories up, a woman screamed, head and shoulders out the window. “Help me!” she screamed again.
"Just climb down..."
"I can't, my baby, I can't get to her!"
"Oh shit,” Kenzie hissed. She stared back and forth, down the alley as if looking for help, for anyone.
"Shit,” she repeated, even as she dropped her purse, took a deep breath and reached for the first rung of the ladder. Climbing quickly, she made it to the third floor in a few short minutes, but even that little bit of time was enough for the fire to seem to burn hotter and closer. The panicking woman was grabbing for her, drawing her into smoke and horror, flames and heat.
"Where is she?” Kenzie gasped, coughing as the smoke choked her.
"Down that hallway!” the woman screamed, trying to drag Kenzie towards the fire.
"Wait! Wait, we need towels or blankets in water.” Kenzie grabbed the drapes to yank them down and doused them in the sink full of dishwater. She dragged it over her head watching as the woman did the same. “Which room?"
"The second one!"
"Down on the floor,” Kenzie yelled. “Stay low.” The sound of the flames was loud, the crashing as the fire consumed all flammable material was worse. Kenzie flinched as somewhere below them it sounded as if the floor had collapsed.
They dropped to the floor where the air was at least a little more breathable. Mackenzie crawled first, feeling the heat of the flames heating the water logged drapes. “I have to be fucking nuts,” she hissed, crawling as fast as she could over the carpeted floor.
Closer to the closed door, she could hear the sound of the baby screaming and felt a surge of adrenaline. She reached up, tapping on the door handle and then grabbing it when it seemed cool enough not to burn her. She twisted it, pushing the door open.
The woman rushed past her, her arms out, reaching for the tiny bundle squalling in the crib. “Thank God,” she croaked.
"Come on. We've got to get ou
t of here, now!” Mackenzie grabbed the woman, wrapping her securely in the drape. She pushed her through the doorway, helping her crawl, feeling dizzy from the smoke and the heat. “Go,” she managed to choke out. “Get to the window!"
Her coughing became worse and she tried holding her breath, but it was impossible. The heat from the room made her vision waver and she blinked her eyes rapidly, tears leaking from them as they burned from the smoke. “Get to the window,” she urged the woman again, not seeing her climbing through and into the fresh air as her arms gave out.
"Come on!” The voice was male and harsh, close to her ear as hands lifted her, cradling her in strong arms. “You're okay, Hunter. Hang on!"
Kenzie squinted through the fog of tears that blurred her vision. “Hawkins?” she rasped hoarsely.
"Yeah!” He managed to climb out the window, draping Mackenzie over his shoulder and across his back in a fireman carry. “You've got to hang on, Hunter!” he ordered, feeling her grab him weakly. Then he was rushing down the metal stairs, catching up with the other woman and her child just as two firemen reached them.
"Smoke inhalation,” Hawk coughed. “All three of them."
"You too,” the fireman yelled. “Hawk, is that you?"
"Johnny?” He slapped the man on the shoulder, letting him take Mackenzie from his back. “She was almost out."
"I'd ask what you were doing up there, but from the looks of this one, I'd say I already know,” Johnny teased. He took Mackenzie to where they'd set up three rescue units, laying her gently on one of the gurneys. Grabbing an oxygen mask, he placed it over her mouth and nose and turned it on.
"You too,” Johnny said, pushing Hawk down on the other gurney.
"What about the woman and her baby?"
"Already taken care of.” He leaned over Mackenzie and took her pulse, seeing her eyes flutter open. “You're going to be okay."
She struggled up, fighting the hands holding her down until she saw brown eyes full of concern and felt his hand take hers. “Settle down, girl. The lady and her baby are fine. You saved their lives and took about ten years off of mine at the same time."
Coughing had made her weak and she wheezed into the oxygen mask. He sat down next to her, his hand on hers.
"We're going to take her into the hospital and get her checked out,” Johnny said, coming up beside Hawk. “You can ride along with her if you'd like?"
"Yeah, I think I'll do that.” He waited until they loaded her up, slipping her purse that he'd picked up onto the gurney with her. Climbing into the back of the ambulance, he took her hand again. “We've got to talk, Hunter,” he said seriously.
"What about?” she asked, around a coughing fit.
"Well, I think you need a reality check. See, this isn't Metropolis, you aren't Lois Lane and I sure as hell don't run around in tights with a big red S on my chest. One of these days I'm not going to be there to catch you when you go pulling stunts like this.” He leaned forward, pushing her short dark curls back from her forehead with gentle fingers. Her face was smudged, her eyes red and watering. She was still one of the prettiest women he'd seen in a long time.
"Better watch it, Hawkins. You might wreck your reputation if that gets out."
"I think I'm safe.” He squeezed her hand, smiling down at her.
* * * *
"I don't need to stay here overnight,” Mackenzie groused, only to start coughing again.
"Yeah, I can see that,” he grinned, earning himself a look that promised retribution.
She grabbed the cup of water that sat next to her bed, sipping it as she caught her breath. “Why are you still here? I thought you weren't going to fly in and save me anymore."
"I didn't say that. Cranky, aren't we?"
"Let me tell you where you can shove that crank...” she began, only to stop when the doctor walked into the exam room.
"You sound better,” he said, looking through the top couple of pages of her folder.
"I am. So how about you give me back my clothes and let me go home? Hospitals are for sick people.” She cringed as she heard the whine in her voice.
"I might do that if you have someone at home that can check on you."
"I do,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly because Hawk turned and gave her a curious look.
"Okay,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing before they went back to her file. He made a few notations, scrawled his name and then patted her on the foot. “I want you to go see your family physician in a week, just for a check up."
"No problem,” Kenzie said. “I'll make the appointment tomorrow."
After the doctor left, Hawk moved to sit on the edge of the gurney, his arms across his chest. “Liar,” he accused genially.
"I am not,” she said automatically, raising her eyes to meet his.
"Are too,” he said calmly, leaning back a bit and studying her. “Who are you going to have stay with you?"
"A friend,” she rasped, taking another sip of her water. “What's it to you anyway?"
"I saved your life today for the second time. Maybe I feel obligated to keep an eye on you now? Or maybe it's because my door man thinks you've got a great rack?” He laughed, as her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in shock.
"Why were you and your doorman discussing my...rack?” she blurted, unable to not ask.
"He read your article today and mentioned it to me, because he knows I work Narcotics.” He studied her intently, watching the blush rise to her cheeks. “So...who?"
"A friend,” she repeated. “Now why don't you get out of here so I can get dressed?"
He opened his mouth to answer when the door was thrust opened and Ron Brent stormed into the room. “Are you all right, Kenzie?"
"Yeah, the doctor says I can go home. I'm fine Ron.” She sat up, glaring at Hawk.
"You do know I sent you down there to get the story, not die of smoke inhalation."
"She saved a woman and her daughter,” Hawk said, wondering why he was sticking up for the prickly brunette.
"That's wonderful, Kenzie. Where's my story?"
"If both of you get out of here, I'll get dressed and write the damn thing.” She stared pointedly at the door.
Ron turned, really noticing Hawk for the first time. “Who's this?"
"Detective Gideon Hawkins, Ron Brent, my editor,” Mackenzie said quickly. “Now, both of you, get out!"
"Fine, we're going.” Ron held open the door, ushering Hawk out. “She's a great writer, but not much in the way of manners."
"Arghhhh!” she groaned, slipping out of bed and reaching for her clothes. She was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed waiting to sign papers when the nurse came in.
"Wow, smells like a four alarm fire in here,” the nurse said, holding out the stack of papers. She wheeled in a chair and put a protesting Mackenzie in it, wheeling her to the lot.
"Your chariot awaits,” Hawk said, holding out the door of the cab he had waiting for her.
"You,” Kenzie groaned, dropping her aching head into her hands.
"Did you expect some other Prince to be waiting for you?” he asked, chuckling at the look on her face. “Come on, Mackenzie, we can share a cab and this way I won't worry about you getting home safely."
She stood up, grabbed her purse and turning, thanked the nurse. Then she walked right past him and down the short drive that led to the parking lot of the hospital. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit the speed dialed number only to protest when the small phone was pulled out of her hand.
"Yellow cab,” he read. “Why would you want to call them when I have one waiting for you right here? Is this anyway for you to be treating the man who saved your life?"
"Fine,” she growled. She walked back and got into the cab, leaning her head against the back of the seat, trying to stop the pain that made her head feel as if it were going to split in two. She needed a nap, a shower and her laptop, but definitely not in that order.
Hawk gave the driver her address, and then
sat quietly next to her. He didn't speak, noting her pale face under the smudged soot. Instead, he reached out, linking his fingers in hers and pulled her hand against his leg.
Kenzie stiffened for an instant when she felt his hand but then when he did nothing more but hold it in his own, she couldn't protest. Her mind was spinning with images behind her closed lashes, seeing the flames that had lit up the smoke darkened room, hearing the roar of the flames and the panting coughs of the woman and her baby. She could still feel the constriction in her chest, the pain in her lungs as the smoke made it harder to breathe. She knew the panic and the fear of wondering if she was going to die.
She must have made some sound, because she felt Hawk scoot closer to her, his arm going around her shoulders. His hand rested against her soot darkened curls, pushing her head down to his shoulder.
"It's okay, Mac,” he whispered. “You're safe."
She didn't protest when he paid the cab driver at her apartment building, sending him away and following her to the elevator. He took the keys from her at her door, unlocking all four locks without a word. Sending her inside, he lifted her chin, studying her red rimmed eyes with a knowing gaze. “Go take a shower. I'll stay until you're out and then I'll let you rest, okay?"
"I have to write the story,” she argued.
"Fine, but take a shower first. You'll feel better. I promise I'll leave as soon as you get done."
She nodded, letting him follow her into the room, kicking off her shoes and dropping her purse by the front closet. “I...I'll only be a few minutes,” she said, feeling somewhat self conscious. “Make yourself at home."
She hurried through the shower, scrubbing the scent of the smoke from her skin and hair, feeling ten times better when she was done. Throwing on another big t-shirt, she dumped her smoky clothes into a plastic bag, tying it shut. It would take a miracle to get the smell out.
She was brushing out her short curls when she went back into her living room.