Shay, Ashley - Sinful Pleasures [The American Heroes Collection: Arizona] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Ashley Shay

  Ignore them, he told himself. You’ve got a job to do.

  Trying unsuccessfully to shut down his emotions, Morgan knew he’d be more effective holding his sympathy until they had the fire under control. He almost made it to the door when a frightened child burst out of the building, followed by a hysterical woman carrying a set of twin infants.

  Steeling himself not to react to her tear-streaked face, Morgan still thought the little girl’s round blue eyes had the most tragic expression he’d ever seen. She ran straight to him, tugging at the hem of his bunker coat.

  “Mr. Fireman?”

  Morgan squatted down to the child, pulling his helmet off so he wouldn’t frighten her. He’d learned long ago not to dismiss children when they had something urgent to say. Kids had an uncanny way of dealing with disaster better than adults.

  “What, honey?”

  “My brofer’s in dere. He went back for Timmy. Mommy couldn’t find him. We had to leave.” The child looked up at the woman who nodded frantically, sobbing nearly as hard as the two screaming infants she held in her thin arms.

  “Who’s Timmy?” Morgan asked, trying to keep his voice soft. A familiar ache started in his chest, threatening to choke him.

  Not another kid, please, God, not another kid.

  “Timmy’s our kitty.”

  “Okay, honey, I’ll look for your brother and your kitty.” Morgan’s heart beat so hard he felt breathless. “Tell me your brother’s name and what floor he’s on.”

  “Jason.” She solemnly held up four fingers, looking up at her tearful mother again for confirmation.

  Morgan didn’t know if she meant the fourth floor or if her brother was four years old. Sometimes it was hard to tell with younger kids giving the information. He looked at the woman clutching the howling twins against each shoulder.

  She’s in shock, he thought, noticing the unfocused stare.

  “Fourth floor?”

  She gazed at him blankly.

  “Lady!” he said sharply. She blinked her eyes in confusion as if coming out of a deep sleep without recognizing her surroundings. “Fourth floor? Is your son on the fourth floor?”

  She nodded slowly. Morgan didn’t wait for more details. He gently pushed her out of his way, running for the door. He wouldn’t be too late this time.

  Inside the building, he could hear screams and knew the making of a nightmare was in progress. Civilians were pushing past him as he ran up the stairs two at a time, heading straight for the fourth floor.

  He keyed his com link. “Dallas?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Gotta stray kid somewhere on four.”

  “On my way.”

  Opening the stairway door, Morgan could see nothing but smoke and flame.

  Fuck this, he thought. I can’t take it any longer. I can’t take another family being torn apart.

  He stepped into the hallway, ignoring his fear as he searched.

  “Jason! Jason can you hear me?” he shouted.

  Morgan heard nothing but the roar of flames in response.

  With a sinking feeling, he knew he might be too late. Again.

  Another kid that won’t grow up, he thought, another family that will never be the same. Another failure.

  “Jason!”

  The tears on his cheeks felt hot, and he didn’t care that he was crying.

  The hallway wasn’t fully engulfed. Flames leapt upward through open doors, hungrily tracking across the ceiling. It wouldn’t be long until the whole floor ignited, but Morgan still had time to pull off a rescue if he could just find the boy.

  C’mon, give me a clue. Tell me where you are.

  Suddenly, out of the smoke, a huge tabby cat rushed him, hissing and snarling in terror as he ran from the flames. Morgan heard the stairway door open behind him, and Dallas stepped inside. He held the door open long enough for the tabby to streak downstairs.

  “Any sign of the kid?”

  Morgan shook his head no, not bothering to hide his tears.

  Dallas gave him an understanding slap on the shoulder before walking down the smoke-filled hallway. Morgan stayed abreast of him on the opposite side of the hall.

  The thick smoke obscured visibility. Both men trailed their hands down the wall to keep their bearings. Morgan knew it wouldn’t be long till they had to evacuate to protect themselves. His stomach cramped, and he felt like he might be sick at the thought of leaving a kid in this inferno.

  “Morgan?” Dallas shouted through the breathing apparatus.

  “Not yet.” Morgan held on stubbornly. He couldn’t give up. Not till he found the kid. “He’s gotta be here somewhere.”

  At the far end of the hall a wall came down, throwing sparks and flame in their direction.

  “We’ve gotta go,” Dallas yelled. “It’s too late, Morgan. There’s too much smoke. C’mon, buddy.”

  “Go, I’ll be right behind you.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, go on,” Morgan urged. “We don’t have much time. Get out of here.”

  Morgan caught the sound of Dallas’s tanks hitting the wall when he turned. He nodded his head, although no one could see him. Dallas would get out. He’d be safe, but Morgan couldn’t leave until…

  He stumbled hard, falling over something in his path.

  Whatever he tripped over didn’t move. The smoke was less dense on the floor, but still heavy enough Morgan couldn’t make out more than a vague shape. A small lump curled up in a tight ball.

  He whirled around and settled himself on his knees. His hands trembled as he gathered up a small boy of no more than five or six years old. The kid stirred when Morgan shook him, coughing violently as his body tried to suck in clean air.

  Tearing off his face plate, Morgan put the breathing apparatus over the child’s face, letting him suck in a few breaths of filtered air.

  He saw a pair of boots come into view. Dallas had come back for him. Morgan wondered how far down the stairs Dallas had made it before noticing he wasn’t following. Morgan looked up through the smoke, barely able to see Dallas’s head and shoulders through the gloom.

  “What the fuck are you doin’ man? C’mon, get your face plate back on.” Dallas’s angry shouts could be heard above the increasing roar of the fire. “Pick up the kid and let’s go.”

  “Got him.” Morgan scooped the child up into his arms, running for the stairs with Dallas covering his back.

  A roar went up from the crowd when Morgan burst through the door and carried the child straight to a waiting team of paramedics. Morgan knew he’d gotten lucky this time. It had been close up there, much too close. His hands began to shake with the aftermath of adrenaline. He’d won this time. It made the job worthwhile.

  * * * *

  “Is the kid gonna be okay?” Dallas asked. He picked up the end of a heavy ladder, helping Morgan carry it back to the idling truck. With a thrust of his powerful shoulders, he hefted his end of the ladder on to specially designed brackets.

  “Paramedics think so.”

  “That’s good. No fatalities this fire. It’s a miracle.”

  “Just luck,” Morgan said. “It could have been hell. The building wasn’t up to code. These people have nowhere to go, and they’ve lost everything they owned. It’s not right.”

  Dallas looked up from securing the ladder. “You did all you could, buddy. You saved a kid’s life. We can’t police every landlord in town.”

  Morgan looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he kept quiet and only shrugged his shoulders.

  Always a champion for the underdog, Dallas thought affectionately.

  His best friend really hadn’t changed much over the years since they first met.

  Firefighters filtered past them, carrying equipment back to their respective apparatus.

  “Good work,” the captain said as he passed. “Let’s hope the rest of the shift is quiet.”

  “Yeah,” they both said simultaneously.

  Dallas grinned. �
�Speaking of luck, do you think we’ll get lucky with Jude this Saturday?”

  Morgan’s serious expression lightened. “What the hell, she might give in and let us play with her toys. Do you think?”

  “She’s hot for us,” Dallas said, prodding his friend’s mood upward another notch.

  “In your dreams.”

  “Seriously, man. We turn her on.”

  “Whatever you say,” Morgan answered, opening the door of the ladder truck.

  “I’ll bet you next week’s pay she will let us show her how to play with the toys. Did you see that expression on her face? She’s real curious about things.”

  “She did seem to have fun modeling those clothes,” Morgan agreed.

  “We got to see one fucking outfit.” Dallas groaned. “I can’t believe we missed that opportunity.”

  “Probably for the better.” Morgan grinned at last. “I’m not sure I could have kept my promise not to touch.”

  “Me neither.” Dallas remembered the way her ass looked under the enticing rows of red lace ruffles. And her legs? He almost groaned at the memory. Jude had the kind of legs that could wrap around a man’s back and pull him into her so deeply he could drown without knowing it.

  “Thinking about those long legs, aren’t you?” Morgan asked, hauling himself into the truck.

  Dallas climbed in beside him, resting his head back against the seat. “You know it. I can practically feel those legs wrapped around my hips while I…”

  The other men climbed into the front of the cab, and Dallas left his sentence unfinished. He figured Morgan could fill in the blanks.

  Morgan stared at him for a long moment before glancing away. Something in his friend’s expression made a cold lump of worry form in the center of Dallas’s chest.

  “You still with the program?” Dallas asked. He hoped Morgan hadn’t changed his mind. It wouldn’t be a contest between his lifelong friend and the woman he thought he might be falling in love with. That would be a no-win situation. Especially since it seemed Morgan was falling for her, too.

  Morgan flashed him a wicked grin. “You mean the share-and-share-alike plan?”

  Dallas felt a knot of tension ease between his tired shoulders. “Yeah. You had me scared for a minute. I thought you were going to say you couldn’t do it.”

  “I know.” Morgan gave him a playful thump on the arm that rocked him sideways in the seat.

  “Asshole.”

  John Grayson looked back over the front seat with a concerned expression on his face. It was obvious he was unsure whether they were kidding or not. “Play nice, boys, or we’ll have to separate you.”

  “Everything’s under control,” Dallas assured him, shooting a sidelong glance at Morgan, who still had a dumb grin on his face but refused to look his way.

  Dallas remembered the first time he met Morgan Kent. It had been in the third grade, and they had Mrs. Daniels for math. She made him feel like a loser. Math didn’t come easily to Dallas, and it seemed like the harder he tried the more confused he got. Mrs. Daniels liked to make an example of him to the whole class.

  Morgan had transferred from Phoenix. He sat quietly while the other kids laughed at Dallas’s embarrassment. He hadn’t laughed or stared at him. He just kept looking at Mrs. Daniels until she finally asked what his problem was.

  “You’re a jerk,” Morgan had said. Just like that. The class went so quiet he could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Daniels turned a funny shade of scarlet purple. Dallas hadn’t ever seen anyone get so mad. He could see her scalp shining hotly through her gray hair.

  “You’re going to the principal’s office, young man.”

  “He’s right!” Dallas countered. “You are a jerk.”

  Mrs. Daniels gave a hiss of frustration and hauled him out of his chair by one arm. “Both of you. Both of you are coming with me to the office.”

  Pinching their arms tightly, she hauled them down to Mr. Tucker. He listened to her rant for half an hour before asking to speak to the boys alone. Mr. Tucker sat solemnly across his desk from them, paying attention to their side of the story. The principal’s gaze frequently shifted from their faces to stare at their bare arms. He frowned at the bruises forming on their tender young skin.

  “You shouldn’t call your teacher a jerk.” He hesitated as if weighing the wisdom of his words. “Even if she is one.” The boys giggled, and Mr. Tucker went on. “Dallas, I know your father. He wouldn’t approve of you being disrespectful. I also understand that Mrs. Daniels had no cause to embarrass you in front of the class. I’ll get you transferred tomorrow.”

  Then Mr. Tucker turned his attention to Morgan. “Were you allowed to talk to your teachers in Phoenix like that?”

  Morgan shook his head no, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. Mr. Tucker sighed heavily. “Don’t let it happen again. I suppose I’ll have to transfer you into another math class, too. You boys are dismissed, but don’t let me hear about you being in any more trouble. Do you understand?”

  In the hallway, the two of them stared at one another in disbelief. Then they started laughing with the kind of lightheaded hilarity that eight-year-old boys get when reprieved from certain doom. From that point on, Morgan and Dallas were inseparable throughout school. They fought each other’s battles, sharing the victories and defeats.

  Dallas knew Morgan joined the firefighting academy more to watch his ass than to be a hero, but together they made a damn good team.

  Morgan turned to give him a thoughtful look. “We should check with Jude after our shift tonight. We can pick up the gifts for Tom and find out what time she wants to leave on Saturday.

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  John Grayson whirled around to stare at them in surprise. “You’re talking about that hot little number who owns Sinful Pleasures? That’s who you two are planning to share and share alike? Wooo-eee!”

  Morgan nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

  John held up his hands. “Nothing, man, but she’s a real piece of work. You really got her to model some clothes for you? Is that who you were talking about? For real?”

  Dallas laughed at the memory. “We picked out some things for Tom’s honeymoon and told Jude the bride is about her size. We promised not to touch if she modeled the clothes for us so we could decide what we liked best.”

  John groaned. “She fell for that?”

  “Not really,” Morgan answered, “but the promise of a big sale sure helped.”

  John shook his head in disbelief. “She’s a class act, guys. I don’t know what the hell she sees in you two, but she definitely makes allowances in your favor. The rest of us poor schmucks get the polite-but-distant treatment.”

  “That’s because she knows who the real studs are.” Dallas smirked, smacking him playfully in the back of the head.

  John raised both eyebrows in disbelief. “Yeah, right.” Then his grin turned into a frown, and he stared back at them in the mirror. “Does the old witch know about this?”

  “By witch, do you mean Genevieve Wheeler?”

  John nodded seriously. “I’m not kidding guys. That woman is evil. I’ve run up against her in court a time or two over minor ordinance issues. She’s got her hand in everything going on in Parrish. It’s no secret she’s trying to destroy Jude for divorcing her son.”

  “Jude’s not married to her son any longer. She can date who she wants.”

  “I’m not arguing with that,” John answered, “but I think Mrs. Wheeler is going to pitch a royal fit. You know what she’s like with all her self-righteous bullshit.”

  * * * *

  Standing in the shower cubicle beside his best friend, Dallas lathered up his chest and arms before speaking. “Do you think Genevieve Wheeler will be able to cause Jude any harm? The Wheelers have friends in high places. We’ve got to think of some way to keep Jude safe. You know they are looking for any excuse to shut down Sinful Pleasures.”

  “I don’t see what they can do,” Morgan said. “Besides, all we�
��re going to do is escort Jude to the ball. It’s not like we’re going to be having an orgy on the courthouse lawn to disgrace her precious Steven.”

  “I don’t know why Mrs. Wheeler thinks Jude, or the town of Parrish, is going to hurt Steven’s bid for senator,” Dallas complained. “Three-way marriages are legal here in Parrish and it won’t be that long till other communities adopt the same laws. And no one cares what Steven’s ex-wife does for a living. Why doesn’t she just leave Jude alone?”

  Morgan poured a handful of shampoo over his head and stepped under the heavy spray, lathering his hair until the foam ran down his back. “It’s all about power, but I’m going to make this work, bud. I’m not going to let the likes of Genevieve Wheeler stop me from the woman of my dreams. You’re either with me or you’re not, but I want to know which it’s going to be right now.”

  “Like I’ve got a choice.”

  Morgan turned to him, blinking the soapy water out of his eyes. “Sure you do. You can back off and let me have her for myself.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Dallas felt his heart thumping like a drum. He could count the number of arguments he and Morgan had had on one hand. Not that this was an argument. At least it hadn’t turned into one yet.

  “Then we might as well be upfront and honest about this from the start. She’s going to be ours. If we have to fight with the Wheelers then we’ll do it. They don’t own Jude. She’s not Steven’s wife any longer.”

  Dallas shook his head, letting the hot water sluice down his tired body. “And if they get us fired from the force? Or they get the city business ordinance changed and shut down Sinful Pleasures, what then?”

  Morgan stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hips. “Are you that worried about those two? Hell, this is a small town, Dallas. You know these people, the mayor and the fire chief won’t be pushed too far. Not many people love the Wheelers. They’ve been causing trouble since I’ve been in town. That’s nothing new.”

  “I know, but I worry about them shutting Jude’s place down.”

  Morgan shrugged. “They’re going to push their weight around when they see us with her. Now or later, the three of us are going to be the topic of conversation. You might as well get used to it.”