Blazing Hotter (Love Under Fire Book 2)

by Chantel Rhondeau

  Cassie’s hands massaged his shoulders and she leaned close to his ear. “I saw the recommendation in your chart. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He jerked his shoulders to shrug her sympathy away. If people acted like this was a horrible thing, Frankie wouldn’t be able to pretend that it wasn’t. He didn’t want to break down in front of everyone and give himself over to the yelling session he’d desperately wanted to have since hearing the news. “Anyway, I can’t use the chair. The controls are on the right side, and I won’t have a hand.”

  Chapter Three

  The week following his party, Cassie tried to keep things normal between her and Frankie. She’d kept his therapy routine the same, but his heart really didn’t seem to be into it anymore and he barely tried.

  Determined to continue with the regimen, Cassie had him in the physical therapy room, working over his leg muscles. She stretched his right leg fully before bending it back toward his chest. Although he let out a hiss of pain and squirmed slightly on the table, he offered no further complaint while she repeated the action.

  He’d definitely been acting weird since his birthday party. It was as though he couldn’t wait to get away from her each day when therapy ended. While she understood he was frustrated about the plans to amputate his right hand and a portion of his forearm, she didn’t think that was the entire problem.

  She flexed his leg again but made eye contact with him this time—something that hadn’t been happening between them the past week. “I spoke to the company and your wheelchair will be delivered tomorrow with the controls on the left side.”

  “Wonderful.” He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth while she completed another repetition of the stretch. “That muscle’s so tight by my ass that it feels like it rips all the time. Even with you doing the work of moving it, the pain isn’t improving with these stretches.”

  Apparently, the powered wheelchair was still a sore spot he didn’t want to talk about. Then again, telling her about his tight muscles was an improvement over the long silences they’d been sharing.

  Cassie shifted to the left side of Frankie’s body. “Let me massage it a bit. You have a lot of scar tissue back here, and I think that’s what gives you the tearing sensation.”

  Not that the massage was likely to help. It had been far too long. If the scar tissue was going to break down, it would have started to do so by now. It might give him a bit of relief, though.

  Frankie rolled to his side, facing away from her but giving her better access to the back of his legs. “Can I ask you a question, Cassie?”

  “I wish you would.” She used her thumbs to dig into the hardened tissues. “You’ve been pretty much silent since your birthday.”

  “We’re done, aren’t we?”

  “Almost. I want you on the stationary bike before ending the session today.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Frankie brushed her hand away with his partially functional left hand, then struggled to a sitting position. His warm brown eyes met hers, and she didn’t like the worry she saw reflecting out of them. “I mean, there isn’t anything more you can do for me. I’m not going to walk again. Ever.”

  Cassie sighed and hopped onto the table next to him, letting her legs dangle over the side next to his. As much as she and Thayne agreed they had to get Frankie to face his new reality, she wasn’t looking forward to having this conversation. “You’ll always need therapy, Frank, to keep what muscle tone you do have.”

  “But there won’t be any improvement. No true mobility as far as walking.”

  He said it with a finality that told her he knew the truth, and perhaps was even coming to terms with it.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I thought there was a good chance, but the nerve damage was extensive and the scar tissue on top of that makes everything harder. It’s so painful for you to even try that I don’t see how you can ever get to the point of walking again. You haven’t tried to stand for weeks because of the pain, and that doesn’t seem to be improving.”

  He nodded. “And so even though I got pissed off about the chair, you really did me a great favor by getting it. It’s going to be my only means of transportation since I won’t be able to wheel myself around. Hell, I can’t handle it now, but it’d be doubly hard to do once they chop my hand off.”

  “I didn’t know about your hand when I started working on the chair. But, yes, it’s twice as important now. This rehab center isn’t all you’re meant for. The chair will help you get mobile again so you can start living your life.”

  He flexed his left hand in a half fist, as far as it would clench before causing him pain. “Living? What am I supposed to do? What kind of job can I possibly work with no legs and one hand?”

  She’d worried about the same thing. “I don’t know.”

  “I go nuts here,” he admitted. “The only time I’m truly happy is when I’m with the kids who live in the burn unit. I have to be strong for them, pretend I’m okay so they won’t be afraid.”

  “Maybe that’s something you could do,” Cassie said, warming to the idea. After all, if Frankie could get back into some sort of service role, even if it wasn’t being a firefighter, maybe he could get his confidence back.

  To her dismay, he shook his head.

  “Not only is that not a paying job, some days I just can’t do it.”

  Although they’d spent many hours together over the last year, this was the first time Frankie had spoken to her with such candid openness.

  She patted his leg softly. “Why not?”

  “I see those three kids sometimes in my mind.” A shudder went through his body. “Some days, I can’t imagine being near children, can’t imagine why anyone would trust me near them. I couldn’t save those kids, and it kills me a little bit more each time I think about it.”

  “No one blames you for those kids’ deaths. It was the arsonist who killed them.”

  “That’s easy to say, but I’m the one who didn’t find them in time to get them out of the house.”

  “You tried. You tried at the expense of yourself. No one can ask more than that.” Although she knew contact should be kept strictly professional with Frankie, she reached up to stroke his cheek, cupping her hand against his face. “You paid a high price trying to save them. You aren’t a failure, Frankie. You’re a hero.”

  A tap sounded on the door to the physical therapy room, and Cassie jumped. Quickly pulling her hand away from Frankie’s face, she was glad Frankie always insisted on keeping the blinds drawn so others couldn’t watch him struggle through his harder days at therapy. That meant whoever was outside hadn’t seen the way she touched him.

  While it was okay to have limited physical contact with her clients as needed for their rehabilitation, she definitely shouldn’t be caressing the face of the man she continued having wet dreams about.

  “I’d better see who’s at the door.” She hopped off the table and crossed the room, praying her cheeks weren’t as pink as she suspected they were. When she opened the door, one of the nurses at the facility stood with a large vase of red roses in her hands.

  “Sorry to bother you, Cassie.” A large grin split the other woman’s face. “I know you’re with Mr. Hernandez, but a delivery man just dropped these off and I couldn’t wait to deliver them.”

  Cassie looked over the bouquet, wondering who Frankie’s admirer was. “We’re almost done here. Why don’t you put them in Mr. Hernandez’s room and he can look at them when we’re finished?”

  “Oh, no. You misunderstood me.” The younger nurse, Sandy, pushed them toward her. “These flowers are for you.”

  “For me?” Shock filtered through her as she accepted the vase. “Did the delivery person say who they were from?”

  She shook her head. “No, but there might be a card. Want me to come in and help you find it?”

  “No thanks. I’m still with my client. I’ll figure it out later.” Stepping back inside the room, Cassie kicked the door s
hut with her foot. When she turned around, it was to find Frankie staring at her.

  “Do you have a boyfriend, Cassie?”

  Even though it shouldn’t make her happy, the slightly crestfallen way he said it gave her hope. She wasn’t the only one viewing this relationship on a less-than-professional level.

  “No boyfriend,” she assured him. “In fact, I’ve hardly dated in a while.”

  Not entirely true, she did have a dinner date two weeks ago with one of the veterinarians at the clinic where Laura worked. However, the man had hardly seemed the type to send flowers. He had been widowed when his wife developed lung cancer, and she was all he could talk about the entire dinner. The date was a total disaster, and Cassie had begged Laura to quit setting her up.

  A couple months before that, she’d met a nice guy at O’Hara’s bar. They’d shared a few dances, had a few drinks, and ended up making out in one of the corner booths. Cassie really thought he liked her, and he’d asked for her phone number before leaving. Unfortunately, the guy never called, and she wrote it off as another failed attempt. Maybe he’d expected her to come home with him for more than a make-out session, and when she hadn’t he moved on to easier women.

  “Is there a card?” Frankie asked, still sounding a bit quarrelsome and angry.

  She grinned, liking to see this possessive spark from him. Frankie was uncomfortable with evidence of another man’s affection. It seemed promising that she wouldn’t be taking advantage of the man if she ever acted on her dreams.

  “Let me check. I have no clue who they could be from.” Cassie walked to the desk situated below the outer window and set the roses down, taking a second to inhale their sweet fragrance. Whoever sent them didn’t know her well. Her favorite flowers were tulips. She highly doubted these roses were anything of a romantic nature.

  Buried deep in the greenery surrounding the flowers, Cassie spotted the corner of an envelope. She gently plucked it loose without disturbing the bouquet and walked back to Frankie. “It’s a little mystery for us today, I guess. Who’s sending me flowers and why?”

  Frankie let out a real smile, carefully patting the cushioned table next to him. “Come here and we’ll find out together.”

  Yep. The man was certainly glad she didn’t have any romantic involvement with someone else. She wouldn’t rush the final weeks of his treatment or the work they’d need to do once he had his hand amputated, but after Frankie left the hospital and got back to a real life, Cassie would ask him to dinner.

  She leaned against the edge of the rehab table and unsealed the card, holding it up so Frankie could read it with her.

  “What the fuck is that!” Frankie’s hand knocked into her arm as he attempted to pull the card closer to his face.

  Cassie shook him off, staring at the red skull and crossbones drawn at the top. With a shaking voice, she read the message. “Roses are red, violets are blue. Stop being a whore, or I’ll cut you.”

  ***

  Frankie snatched the card from Cassie, reading it again. It was hard to shake off his disbelief. The words had been written in all capitals with large, blocky strokes. Likely whoever sent them didn’t want a way to compare his handwriting to that on the card if he were caught.

  “Call the police right now,” he said, realizing he shouldn’t have touched the card. With his uncooperative fingers, he’d put the entire thing in his hand. What if he covered up any fingerprints the ass who sent them might have left?

  “I’m not calling the cops.” Cassie shook her head and stood, pacing the room. “It has to be a joke. I mean, I haven’t really dated anyone lately, so why would the person think I’m a whore?”

  “A joke? That’s a damn sick joke.”

  Hot anger coiled in Frankie’s stomach, making it hard for him to think rationally. He wanted to find whoever threatened his woman and make that person pay. He might be a cripple, but he was sure there were things he could manage. If not, he always had plenty of strong firefighter friends who could handle the job for him.

  Unaware of his internal struggle, Cassie continued pacing, tucking her short blond hair behind her ears and chewing on her lip.

  It definitely worried her. Frankie couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to call the police.

  “Haven’t you been watching the news?” he asked when she still made no moves to get her cell phone.

  She finally stopped marching around the room and turned to face him. The naked fear in her eyes only served to make him angrier.

  Cassie shook her head. “It’s been a busy week, considering I had a lot of patients to see after being gone the week before. What’s on the news? Something about this?”

  While Frankie didn’t want to scare her further for something that might not be related, he couldn’t help but replay the reports of two recent murders. Someone in Sayle was killing women and so far, the police had no leads. What if the person who sent these flowers was the killer?

  Then again, there had been no mention of flowers delivered to the victims. That didn’t mean they didn’t get any, but maybe the police didn’t know it was significant or maybe they weren’t reporting that to the press. Frankie watched a lot of television now that he could do little else. The crime shows always portrayed how details of the investigation were held back to help weed out leads with no real information.

  As carefully as he could, Frankie set the card next to him on the cushioned surface and ran his left hand through his curly black hair. What should he tell her?

  “Frankie?” She walked toward him, stopping within touching distance of his knees. “You look worried, and that’s scaring me more than the note.”

  “Just call the police and report this, Cass. Maybe it’s a sick joke by some bastard, but maybe there’s a psycho obsessed with you.”

  “It has to be a joke,” she repeated. “If someone was obsessed with me, they’d know I rarely date. Since they can’t read my thoughts, they’d have no clue about the dreams...” She broke off, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.

  Why would she be worried about dreams? Unless...

  Despite the gravity of the flowers, Frankie couldn’t help but grin and flashed her a wink. “Who exactly is featured in these dreams? Could it be a hot Latino patient?”

  Her blush deepened to a bright scarlet and she looked away. However, she didn’t deny it.

  For the first time since his accident, Frankie felt his old swagger attitude returning. It was one thing for him to have fantasies about his therapist. He was sure lots of people fell for their doctors—it was sort of like having a crush on your high school teacher. But if she fantasized about him too, that was something worth thinking about. He wondered how, exactly, she pictured them together. She’d have to ride on top, considering his limited state, but he was sure they could still have a whole lot of fun.

  Cassie cleared her throat, breaking him from his thoughts before he could get too carried away. He needed to focus right now. Fantasies of getting hot with Cassie while she wore a skimpy nurse uniform would have to wait. Right now, they needed to figure out if these flowers came from a person who actually wanted to hurt her.

  “Where was your brother’s wedding? Did you meet anyone there who might have thought you’d become more than friends?” If it was someone from the wedding, he wouldn’t have to worry about the killer. A regular stalker would be less terrifying than someone who’d already killed twice.

  She shook her head. “The wedding was in Europe. That’s why I was gone so long. My mom and stepdad live there, and my brother wanted to honeymoon in Paris anyway so it made more sense for us to go there. It was a fairly small ceremony. Just us and the bride’s family. I spent the entire trip hanging out with my six-year-old nephew. He’s the only man in my life.”

  While he was happy to hear the only man in her life was no competition, that didn’t help reassure him that the card was harmless. “Look, Cass, I don’t want to scare you, but there’s a killer in Sayle. Two women’s bodies have been found
so far.”

  Her sharp gasp of breath made him regret telling her. He’d definitely given her other things to dream about tonight than him. Nightmares about a killer weren’t nearly as much fun. At least she didn’t know how closely the other victims resembled her in looks. That might send her into a panic, and Frankie didn’t want that.

  “It’s probably not the guy,” he hastened to assure her, “but why take chances? We need to report this. Bring my chair over here.”

  Cassie looked toward his wheelchair in the corner, making an aborted stride toward it before turning back. “I’ll call a nurse in to help move you.”

  Frankie shook his head. “Just bring the chair. I can do this. If you’re still wavering about calling the cops, we need to at least find out where the flowers came from and see if we can figure out who sent them.”

  Seeming uncertain, she walked slowly toward his chair and pushed it back even more slowly. “You aren’t forcing me to call the cops?”

  “I can tell you don’t want to for some reason, although I can’t imagine why.” Gritting his teeth, Frankie used his left arm to push himself off the edge of therapy table. Burning pains shot up his legs as they touched the ground, and Frankie twisted and slumped over the table to keep himself upright, biting back a groan.

  “Frankie!” Cassie rushed to his side, her hands going around his waist. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Getting in that damn chair. Line it up behind me.”

  Rushing to do as he asked, Cassie got the chair in place just in time for Frankie to fall into it.

  He struggled to control his labored breathing as pain tore through his legs and back. He’d only thought it was bad before when Cassie moved the legs, but this was all bullshit. He was tired of being an invalid with no control over his own life. Now Cassie was in trouble, and he wasn’t going to let injuries that occurred so long ago stop him from keeping her safe. No matter what it took, he’d protect her.

  When he felt like he could talk without revealing how much pain he was in, Frankie met Cassie’s eyes. “Let’s start by talking to the nurse who brought these to you. The card doesn’t say what florist they came from, but someone had to deliver them. We need to see what Sandy knows.”