I’ve got my brothers behind and beside me, and the sweet butts for when I can’t resist the urge. It’s time I looked at what I have, not what I haven’t, and accept anything else is out of my reach.
Eventually, just as the sky is lightening, I manage to drop off, coming almost instantly awake when a loud crash sounds. In one swift movement, I’ve got my cut on and my gun in my hand, a few short strides taking me to the hallway. I’m not the only one to have been disturbed.
“Get back inside,” I snap at Darcy, who’s opened the door to her room. I must have snarled in my typical sergeant-at-arms fashion, as her face falls, but I’ve no time to baby her. From the sounds of it there’s one hell of a struggle going on inside the guestroom, and I want her completely out of harm’s way.
Used to being obeyed, I don’t wait for her to get back into her bedroom, instead throw open the guest room door and step inside. “What the fuck is going on?”
My loud shout provides enough distraction for Pete to grab a gun out of nowhere, raise it, and aim toward the door, straight in my direction. My fast reactions mean I’m out of the way before he pulls the trigger, but the bullet keeps travelling and hits the woman who, instead of complying with my instruction, is right behind me. As she lets out a scream, my stomach drops. Spinning, I see her slumping against the door jamb, her hand to her arm, and her eyes wild.
“What the fuck have you done now?” Seeing Hyde’s quickly placed chop to Pete’s arm, making him drop the gun which is now secured in the Fergus’s care, Darcy pushes me aside and steps forward. “You could have fucking killed me.” Pete backs up as she screams in his face. Glancing at her look of fury, I would have done the same myself. In that moment, she looks like an Amazon. Apart from the sweet butts, I’m not used to hearing a woman swear, but in the circumstances, would definitely give her a pass. I’d go so far as to say it sounds goddamn sexy coming out of her mouth, and my cock starts to lengthen at this most inappropriate time. I remind myself she works closely with men, in fraught situations, so it’s not surprising when riled she resorts to profanity. But that doesn’t affect the impact. Not at all. Her effect isn’t just on me. Pete seems to shrink in front of my eyes.
Still with her hand clenched to her bleeding arm, the sight of the blood immediately deflating my dick, she points at her unwelcome guest, her voice still shrill as she demands, “Where did you get the gun?”
That’s what I want to know. Fergus looks sheepish, his eyes meet mine. “He must have had it stashed under the mattress. Sorry, Peg.”
I file that away and will deal with him later. Fucker should have checked everything out.
“He woke up, Peg. Started striking out.” Hyde’s ruefully rubbing his chin. “He was trying to get to Darcy.”
Darcy’s waving her hand. “Pipe down everyone. Peg, can you get my phone please, it should be on the table in the hall.”
“Who you going to call?” My immediate reaction is, of course, not to get the authorities involved.
She turns that battered face toward me. “The police, of course.” As my head starts to move in a negative action, knowing she’s doing what any citizen would, her face widens into a grin. “It must be his gun, I don’t own one. I didn’t even know he had it. But the facts are quite clear. He’s fired at me and injured me. That together with the damage to my face must be enough to take him in. It gets him out of my life.”
“And we’re here, because…?” Cops come in, see us…. Nah, I don’t like that idea.
Though I can see the merits of her suggestion from her side. It saves him from a beat down by us. I’d like nothing better than to smash his face in, to show this man how it feels to be on the receiving end for once.
“Because you stopped and brought me home after Pete hit me last night and refused to leave my house.” She lifts her hand and touches the side of my face. “I know you don’t want to get the police involved, Peg, but this is the best way. He shot a firefighter in her own house. No way he’s getting away with that.”
“Bitch. You can’t do this. It was a mistake, I was trying to shoot an intruder. I was keeping you safe, Darcy. You can’t throw me out, I’ve nowhere to go….”
“I think the police might be quite accommodating.” She turns her attention from him to me. I wait a second, her touch almost mesmerising, making me want to do anything she wants. Even play it her way. I give her a nod. In a moment I’m back with her phone. She calls up a number. “Hey, Grover. I need some help. My housemate just shot me.” She pulls her phone away from her ear. “Just a graze, thank God, but he could have killed me.”
“Nah, I’ve got friends here, they’ve got him restrained.” She jerks her chin at me as if the man at the other end can see her.
“Uh huh. Thanks, man.” Sighing, she ends the call.
I’m staring at her, she shrugs. “I’m a firefighter. Got lots of friends in the police department. And,” she turns to Pete, “they really don’t like hearing that someone tried to take a member of any of the rescue services out.”
Of course she does. That’s another reason why I can’t even consider starting anything with this amazing woman. I lift my chin toward Hyde. “Make sure you keep hold of him.”
“And don’t rough him up,” Darcy instructs. “Sorry, but you’ll have to stay, as your fingerprints will be on the gun, Fergus, but there’ll be gunpowder residue on his.”
Fuck, this woman is smart. “Darcy, will you let me take a look at your arm?”
She looks surprised, and then down at her arm as though she’s already forgotten it. A grimace crosses her face as she spots more blood running down.
“Need to get our story straight before the cops come,” Hyde reminds me.
Darcy creases her eyes as she looks up. “Just tell the truth. Nothing more to say. You rescued me, stayed when you saw I needed help.”
I notice Hyde staring at me, and even Fergus is looking bemused. After thinking about it for a moment, I shrug. We’ve done nothing wrong, and can hardly disappear when fingers might be pointed young Fergus’s way. Telling the truth to the law is not the normal way we’d play it, but she’s right. It could work. I feel one side of my mouth turn up as my admiration for this woman grows.
When a friend of a cop gets attacked, the police obviously leap into action. Sirens come up the road, cars screech to a halt outside.
Cops rush in screaming, “Hands up, where we can see them!”
Pete takes a chance to run, but he only runs into the waiting arms of the police. He seizes the opportunity. “Those biker scum came in here, attacked and shot my girlfriend.”
There’s loud voices, and hardly anyone can hear through the din. It’s confusion, with the cops following their natural tendencies to put the blame on the men in leather cuts until one voice rings out above them all.
“I’m Darcy Cavanaugh. This is my house. That man who’s been staying here as my housemate, Peter Mercer, attacked me last night, refused to leave my house, and it was him who shot me just now.”
There’s a sudden lull, and one of the cops steps forward, his eyes still alighting on us with suspicion. “Which one’s Mercer?”
She points. “The one who’s trying to persuade you he’s innocent.”
A man in plain clothes pushes through the throng. “Cavanaugh.” He nods as he greets her. “Would you care to explain?” As he speaks, he motions for her to show him her arm. When he sees blood running freely, he shakes his head and stops her halfway through her explanation. “Fuck, Darcy you need to get checked out.” He casts a look my way. “You say these bikers helped you? Stayed here for protection?” I look, knowing it’s in vain, but hoping to see appreciation on his face, but his expression is full of suspicion.
Darcy must have noticed it, because she shrugs off his touch and adds, “I think Pete’s been taking drugs. I’d like you to search the house. Whatever you find has nothing to do with me.” Breaking off, she frowns. “And he obviously had a weapon, and I had no idea. Perhaps there’s more?
Please make sure anything that shouldn’t be here is removed.”
The cops take a protesting Pete outside, but some of them remain. As I get a nasty feeling, I send off a quick text to the prez. My phone pings a few seconds later, but I don’t bother looking, I know it will be confirmation.
It’s not long before the three of us are on our way to the precinct, and Darcy’s been taken off to the hospital. She’d mouthed ‘sorry’ back over her shoulder as Grover led her out, knowing the police were taking advantage of us being on the premises where a firefighter got hurt.
Shortly after, as expected, I’m sitting locked up in a cell, Hyde and Fergus probably equally confined, but out of my sight and hearing to ensure we don’t get a chance to confer. It wouldn’t matter, our story would be the same even if we had a chance to work on it. They’d tried to question me, but I value my patch far too much to speak to a cop without the club lawyer present. If we were citizens it all would probably be cleared up in no time at all.
At last I’m led to an interview room. I nod to the lawyer, and sit down beside him, then look over the desk. I recognise the detective but can’t readily place him.
“Detective Reed.” He introduces himself, strangely stretching out his hand for me to shake, which I do automatically. “I’m a friend of Marcia Hannah.”
Ah, now I know who he is. He’d been the one who’d warned Heart’s old lady that some dirty cops were out to get her. I suppose it’s the friendliest face I can expect to see here.
“Marcia doing okay?” he enquiries politely.
I respond in an equally sociable tone, “Apart from being heavily pregnant with twins, she’s doing fine.”
An easy smile comes to his face. “And doing some excellent work behind the scenes, or so I hear?”
Now that I neither confirm nor deny. No one knows exactly what Marcia’s doing when she’s holed up with our computer guru, Mouse, but we know they’ve been getting results.
“Right.” He looks down at his notes. “Ok. Fergus and Hyde have already been interviewed. He pauses for the club lawyer to nod to agree he’d been present. Now, Mr Rinter, I’d like you to take me through exactly what happened last night.”
I hate the smell of this place and playing it straight down the line will mean I’ll be out of here sooner. Taking a breath, I start from the moment I stopped in front of her car, to the moment the police arrived this morning. He’s jotting down what I’m saying as well as consulting his notes. A couple of times he checks what I’ve said but doesn’t seem to have a problem.
At the end he looks up. “Right, that all tallies. I think we’ve got the story straight.”
“Will Mercer be let out on bail?”
He gives me a sharp look. “Too early to say. What you thinking, Mr Rinter? Wouldn’t advise you to take the law into your own hands.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Look, Miss Cavanaugh seems like a decent sort. If this man’s got the hots for her, don’t want him to get close and hurt her again. I’ll get her locks changed and security beefed up.”
He takes off his glasses, polishes them, then puts them back on. “You said you just met her last night? Are you going to be a problem for her?”
“What? Me?” I huff. “No way.”
Perhaps now the glass he’s looking through is cleaner, he leans back on his chair and folds his arms, his chin resting on his chest for a moment. Then he raises his head and nods. “She does need to get her locks changed and for our part, if for some reason this man walks? Then we’ll make sure we’ll keep a close eye on Miss Cavanaugh. She plays an important part in the community. Brave woman.”
“Appreciate that.”
Chapter 6
Darcy
“Flash! What the fuck happened to you?”
“What does the other one look like?”
“Shit, girl, six days off and you’ve rearranged your face.” Captain Slade comes nearer to get a close look at the damage and adds his comments to those of my other team mates. He tuts loudly and shakes his head. “Should you even be here?”
“Hey, we can use her to scare off the arsonists.”
At that, I raise my middle finger toward Hammer. “Shut it, you lot. It’s only bruising.” Yeah, and doesn’t it look great? Two blackened eyes now a nice shade of purple, although not so swollen, my nose is still red, and my cheek has a nice yellow and green tinge. “Would you believe me if I told you I walked into a door?”
“Oldest excuse in the book, girl.” Truck, so named as he’s as big as one, joins the captain, his eyes narrow as he takes in the damage. “Who hit you? You got mugged or something?”
I inhale sharply. We care about each other on this team, and I don’t want to lie to them. I decide to get it over and done with. “It was Pete Mercer. My housemate. Well, he’s not that any longer. And yes, before you go on about it, I made some bad decisions, alright?” They’d never understood why I’d taken pity on the man made homeless by a fire. Come to that, neither did I. Mercer had put me in the awkward position where he’d backed me into a corner. I never really understood how he’d done it.
Hammer, our paramedic, still looks concerned. “Is your nose broken?”
“No, thank God. Just bruised. Look, I’m still a little sore, but I can work, okay. And the bullet just skimmed me.”
Now three voices shout out in unison. “Bullet? You were fucking shot?”
Sighing, I explain, rubbing at the small bandage on my forearm. “Fucker pulled a gun on me, got off a shot, luckily it went wide and just grazed me.”
“Tell me the asshole’s in jail,” Slade snarls.
I nod. “He is.”
“He shouldn’t be fucking alive. Bastard should be dead.” Truck’s almost shaking with rage. “He could have killed you.”
As the seriousness of what happened sinks in, I’m surrounded by three concerned men all talking at once, coming up with rather colourful suggestions of how they’d make someone who shot at a firefighter pay. I let their musings wash over me, basking in their concern, which would have been the same on my part had our positions been reversed. Along with doing a job that I love, we’re a close-knit team. When we’re fighting what nature throws at us, we need to have each other’s back and that trust and camaraderie extends to when we’re not out on a call.
“Should have called us.” Slade’s still harping on. Just as I start to wonder how to put into words that I was ashamed and didn’t want anyone to know, I hear another voice.
“What’s happened to you, Firefighter Cavanaugh?” I sigh. The battalion chief would choose this moment to walk into the station. I give him the brief version all over again. After exchanging a look and a silent conversation with Hammer, he gives me a nod. “Well, okay. As long as you feel you’re up to working. But if you’re not pulling your weight, you’ll have to take a sick day.”
“I’m fine, Chief.” The worst pain I’ll have to go through is being the subject of jokes during the whole of my twenty-four-hour shift. I know my fellow firefighters too well.
Another sharp look, then his concern fades. Slade, being the captain and the most senior of us on the shift, informs him, “All quiet at the moment.”
Batt Chief Leadson nods. “Let’s hope it stays that way and you’ll be doing equipment checks today.”
I nod at Hammer. As well as our most qualified medic, he’s also our driver and engineer, responsible for operating the pump. I’m letting him know I’ll work with him. Truck, the youngest and newest member of our team, is nearing the end of his eighteen-month probation period, something I completed five years ago now, after a gruelling four-month para-military training program.
The physical requirements of the job and my level of fitness is one of the reasons I’m still annoyed Pete got the drop on me, and that I didn’t fight back. But being able to carry two twelve and a half pound packs while wearing a fifty-pound vest up the stairs of a high-rise building and being able to swing a ten-pound sledgehammer might mean I’m physically strong, b
ut doesn’t translate into being mentally equipped to use that strength against a larger and bulkier flesh and blood opponent.
I’ll just have to be more selective who I open my home to. But Pete had showed no sign he’d ever be any kind of threat. Sure, he’d begun taking advantage, but to turn violent? I’m still reeling from that.
“You with us, Flash?”
I shake my head to clear it. I’m a woman able to do one of the most physically demanding jobs there is, but deep down inside, Pete’s attack has shown I can still be a victim. Why didn’t I fight back?
“Okay. If we’re not dispatched to any incidents, we’ll get the equipment checked, then hit the gym.” Slade notices my slight grimace. “Flash. Full pack, on the treadmill.”
Asshole. But I’ll show him I can do it. I raise my chin.
Dispatch calls, and all conversation stops dead. Like a well-oiled machine, we get prepared and out on the engine in under a minute. It’s only then Slade informs us it’s a two-car vehicle crash with an entrapment.
The rest of the shift goes quickly. A small fire in a house, a medical emergency which is dealt with by Hammer, and then it’s back to the station to try and get some rest. Which we don’t, of course. There’s a good reason why we have twenty-four hours off after a shift, as the work can be tiring and relentless. Even a quiet shift can seem gruelling, as we try to occupy ourselves, snatching some downtime to watch TV or read, or attempting to get a couple of hours of quality sleep in between activities such as running drills, training, and working out. Then, of course, there’s maintenance that always needs to be done.
Finally, I’m able to go home, still wondering why people fit fire alarms then don’t bother to check they’re working, as that simple action might have saved the house we’d been called out to in the early hours of the morning, and which took the rest of the shift to put out.
Home, that place which holds two opposing memories. One I’d rather forget, and one which I’d have liked to explore further. Peg. Oh, I know that an actual relationship between a firefighter and an outlaw biker wouldn’t be looked on kindly, but there was something about him that makes me want to see him again. In one night I feel I’d seen the best and worst of humanity, one man taking advantage, another giving me help and asking nothing at all.
Peg's Stand Page 5