Bad Boy's Touch (Firemen in Love Book 3)

by Starling,Amy

  I grinned. “But you won't.”

  We approached a stop sign at an empty four-way intersection. The creep ran it without even slowing down.

  “Don't you dare,” Madison warned me. “There's a limit to how many laws I can let you break while turning a blind eye.”

  I sped straight through without a word. Jenna cheered; Madison cussed at me but had little else to say.

  “We can't afford to stop,” I said gently. “I gotta catch this guy. If I don't, and something happens to you or Jenna, I'd never forgive myself.”

  We were heading through downtown now. There were lots of cars on the road here, innocent bystanders, and the Celica's driver was starting to get desperate.

  He weaved in and out of traffic, but all the vehicles ahead of him slowed him some. I had a close call when some driver drifted into my lane without looking.

  “Someone is going to get seriously hurt,” Madison cried. “Can't you steer him toward the rural areas on the outskirts of town?”

  “You got it.”

  I positioned our car so he couldn't turn left, toward the busier part of the city, instead forcing him to head to the highway. There was more open space out here, but also fewer cars.

  Soon as we got off the main road, he jammed on the gas and got up to eighty. So did I, but it was useless.

  “He just keeps going faster,” Jenna said. “Hey, Mad. How about he does that PIT maneuver thing you told me about?”

  She glared. “Don't give him any ideas!”

  Up ahead, a semi truck began to change lanes and nearly knocked the Celica off the road. That gave me a bit of a chance to catch up.

  Jenna was right; nabbing him at this rate would be pretty much impossible. There had to be a way to force him to stop.

  Not very far ahead was a pickup truck, its bed full of all sorts of items, tools and junk. The driver hit a bump; something fell from the back and rolled at high speed into the road.

  It happened too fast for the Celica to dodge. The driver hit the debris head on, slowed, then spun out in a circle before crashing hard into the guardrail.

  “Oh God,” Madison yelled. “What if you killed him?”

  “Well, he should have thought about that before spying on you.”

  We pulled off the highway behind the Celica. It didn't move; smoke gushed from beneath the hood. In the dark, the driver's outline was just barely visible. He lifeless body slumped forward, face-down on the steering wheel.

  Madison smartly reached for her gun in the glove box. I almost told her to wait in the car, but thought better of it because she wasn't gonna listen to me regardless.

  “Stay here, Jenna,” she said firmly. “This guy might be dangerous.”

  We walked in silence to the dead car, and I half expected the driver to wake up and zoom away once more. But he didn't.

  I grabbed the door handle; Madison stood to my side with her gun raised. Our eyes met. She nodded.

  “Let's see what we have here,” I grunted, pulling open the crumpled door.

  Inside was a guy who could have passed for a caveman if not for his modern clothes. He sported a head of messy, unkempt hair and a scraggly beard. His arms had more tattoos on them than mine.

  “Sure looks like a criminal, doesn't he?”

  The guy groaned and sat up, the moonlight shining on his face for the first time. Madison's brow furrowed. She pushed me out of the way and stared.

  “What's up? Is he someone you know?”

  The man's eyes opened, big and green – and holy shit, why did he look so much like Madison?

  They gaped at each other for a long while without saying a word. Finally, she lowered her weapon.

  “Yeah, I know him,” she whispered. “That's my brother Charlie.”

  Chapter 18 - Madison

  Nearly twenty years had passed since the last time I had seen Charlie. But when I saw him tonight, even with the beard and the bags under his eyes, I recognized him at once.

  “Hello, Mad,” he said softly, rubbing his bleeding head. “I'm back.”

  Jenna ran from the car to see what we were all gawking at. She took one look at him and shrieked.

  “Is that... who I think it is?”

  Charlie smiled. “Little sister. Lord, you've grown up so much.”

  Brett, dumbfounded, let her push him out of the way. She reached into the car to help him to his feet, tears streaming down her face.

  “It was you?” I blurted. “You were the one stalking us all this time?”

  “We thought you were dead,” Jenna added. “What the hell were you thinking? Why follow us and hide in the shadows instead of knocking on our door?”

  “I have answers for everything. Don't be mad at me following you around; I just... I wanted to see you girls so badly, but I was so scared.”

  Though Charlie had grown up, there was still the same dark coldness in his eyes that had always been there. As I helped him into the backseat of my car, a million questions swirled in my mind.

  Jenna got in with him and shut the door, leaving me and Brett alone in the street. He turned to me, looking rather shell-shocked.

  “That's your brother? The guy who vanished after that incident with your house?”

  I nodded. “It seems so surreal, like it can't be true. To be honest, I doubted I'd ever see him again.”

  Brett curled me up in one of his reassuring hugs. “It's got to be hard. I'm here for you, okay?”

  “Yeah, I know you are.”

  “And Maddie?” He paused. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not so sure you should trust him, even if he is your brother. Something about him seems off.”

  Not to mention him following us around town like a creeper. Still, I was sure he had a reason for it. He'd always had his reasons.

  Brett kindly offered to drive back to his house. I agreed; after this, I was in no condition to take the wheel. My legs were shaking like mad and my stomach churned from all the excitement.

  Back inside the car, Jenna pummeled Charlie with questions. I handed him a pack of tissues to dab the wound on his forehead.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, I'll be fine.” He shook his head. “Man, I missed you.”

  “Where have you been? And I want the whole story,” I insisted. “After the fire, you vanished. The whole city looked everywhere for you. Mom and dad were devastated.”

  “I didn't show myself to you,” he said slowly, “because I was ashamed. I've done some bad things, Mad. I didn't want you to know that about me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The fire.” He took a deep breath. “I'm pretty sure it was my fault.”

  Jenna and I exchanged nervous glances. Brett said that Charlie couldn't be trusted. What if he was right? If he'd done something horrible, could I turn a blind eye just because he was my sibling?

  “Back in high school, I felt so alone and misunderstood. Then I met a couple of guys. I didn't have friends, you know, and I was just real happy to feel accepted for once. That's how I got into cooking and selling meth with them.”

  Jenna yelped. “Charlie, you were a drug dealer? What were you thinking?”

  “I guess I just got into it 'cause I was afraid to lose the only people who seemed to accept me.” He shrugged. “We just sold to other kids and addicts on street corners for a while. Then some other dude came along, said he wanted to partner up with us. We started making product for him and he handled selling. The money rolled in.”

  Brett put his hand on my leg and squeezed. I reached for him, suddenly realizing how much I'd needed him without ever knowing it. His touch was the only scrap of comfort I had to cling to.

  “I'm sure we pissed a lot of people off. Our type tended to have plenty of enemies,” he went on. “But one day, I met this kid at school. I'll never forget him. He wasn't a druggie like most of the others. Was just some nice, normal guy who wanted something to help him take his SATs.”

  Brett was incredulous. “So yo
u sold this poor boy meth?”

  “Yes, and... A few days later, he was found dead from an overdose. Saw it on the news.” He started to cry. “It was my fault. I've blamed myself for his death ever since.”

  Jenna tried to hug him, to reassure him that he couldn't be certain that was truly his fault. This was how it'd always been: him freaking out or breaking down; her trying to cheer him up.

  And me, caught in the middle of it all, not sure what to do or think.

  Charlie was family, yet I suddenly felt like I never knew him at all.

  “About a week later, the fire happened. I'm almost positive it was someone trying to get revenge for that dead boy. Someone who knew I'd sold him those drugs.” He buried his face in his hands. “The guilt was crushing, unrelenting. It was all I could think of until it drove me mad. I... I wanted to kill myself to make it stop. And then dad said I was going crazy, and he tried to stick me in the psych ward. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran.”

  Part of me had always hated Charlie for abandoning us. Now, I just felt sorry for him.

  “Where did you run to?” Jenna asked.

  “Where anyone goes when they're trying to escape their past. I went south, to Mexico.” He showed us the tattoos on his arms, most of the words in Spanish. “I decided I'd start a new life there. I could never return home. I was terrified of getting caught for what I'd done.”

  We reached Brett's place at last. All of us went inside, to the kitchen, where the pot of chili was now ice cold. Didn't matter; I hadn't much of an appetite left.

  Charlie sat at the table, a dead, glassy look in his eyes. Brett offered him a beer from the fridge, but he wouldn't accept it.

  I, on the other handed, needed a drink after this. I took the bottle from him and chugged, half expecting Brett to make some dumb comment. He didn't.

  “Well, uh, I'm sure you must be hungry,” he said. “I'll heat the chili back up while you continue your story.”

  “I had my last name changed to ensure I wouldn't be found. I'm not a Finley anymore; I'm Charlie Ferrero now. For a while it worked, and no one found me. I gave up the drugs and tried to start over with an honest life.” He scowled. “Still, with my 'issues,' it was hard to keep a job.”

  Jenna hit his shoulder. “Didn't you think for a second how much you were hurting us? Every year we light a candle on your birthday, hoping beyond hope you're still out there and you might come home one day.”

  “I didn't want to come home because I knew the truth would hurt even more than my disappearance.”

  “No,” I said. “Losing our brother, not knowing what happened to him, was worst of all.”

  “I might have changed my mind and come home sooner if I hadn't gotten thrown in jail.”

  We all stared at him. I wasn't totally surprised; Jenna and I had always thought he'd end up in prison for something or another.

  “A couple years after I settled in there, some new cop showed up on the local force. Now, the police in Mexico are known for being corrupt, but I'd kept my nose clean thus far, so no big deal. This cop, though... There was something odd about him from the get-go. He was white.”

  “That makes him odd?” Brett wondered.

  “In that part of the country, yes. I caught him watching me, following me in his cruiser, many times. Then one day, he pulled me over and arrested me on the spot.”

  “For what?”

  “I asked him the same. I was innocent and everyone knew it. But somehow, a few kilos of some drug ended up in my car trunk.”

  My jaw fell. “Wait. You're saying he planted it on you – why?”

  “Yeah, he did. In Mexico, it's super easy to send a guy to jail just 'cause you don't like him. Police bribes, and all that. This guy hated me, but I didn't get why until he had me locked in a cell.” He shuddered. “He said to me, 'You took my son away. You ruined my life. Now I'm going to ruin yours.'”

  “The boy's father hunted you down just to throw you in prison?”

  He nodded. “He desperately wanted revenge, and he got it. I was stuck in that jail for eight years until me and some other guys finally managed to break out.”

  “Break out?” Jenna screamed. “Holy shit, Charlie; you're a fugitive!”

  I nearly threw up my beer. I thought Brett was bad? He was a Boy Scout compared to my brother.

  “What did you expect me to do – serve twenty years behind bars for a crime I didn't commit? In that prison, the rats got your food scraps if you didn't eat fast enough. I got beat up by the guards and other inmates pretty much daily. Even took a knife to the gut once.”

  He lifted his shirt and showed us the jagged pink scar.

  Victor's face wormed its way into my mind. Framing people was his specialty, and I hated him for it.

  Yeah, Charlie was a criminal, but he didn't deserve the hell he'd gone through.

  “That's where I've been all this time. Soon as I escaped, I bought passage back to the United States because I knew the authorities would be looking everywhere for me.” He stared into the bowl of chili Brett put before him. “In jail, the only thing that got me through was thinking of you girls. When I got out, I drove straight here, but I couldn't show myself. I was so scared.”

  Jenna bawled and hugged him tight. I joined Brett by the oven, where he pretended to be busy tinkering with the food.

  “It sounds unreal,” he whispered. “Do you think those Mexican cops will bother hunting him all the way north?”

  “No, I doubt it. They've got other, easier prey to bag. They'll likely forget about him after a while.”

  He eyed me nervously. “You're not, uh, gonna turn him in?”

  “I can't. He's family,” I said. “If there's one thing I learned from you, it's that there are exceptions to every rule.”

  Charlie was now devouring his chili. The poor man was so skinny; they'd probably fed him nothing but stale bread in jail.

  “Damn, this is delicious,” he mumbled, his mouth full. He glanced at Brett. “You seem like a cool guy. I sure hope you're taking care of my sister.”

  Brett chuckled. “I somehow don't think she needs a man's care, but I do try my hardest.”

  I was annoyed but somewhat flattered that Charlie seemed to like Brett. Despite his problems, he'd always looked out for us. He was smart, a good judge of character.

  “Don't be pissed, but I was kind of keeping an eye on you, too.” He looked him up and down. “I was just wondering: why'd you knock that tree down in front of the firetruck's path? I mean, I've done some dumbass things in my lifetime, but that...”

  The tension in the room suddenly seemed to grow thicker. Brett turned red and backed into the stove.

  “Brett,” I said calmly. “What exactly is he talking about?”

  He hung his head. “I thought there was someone very bad in that house. I... I thought they should pay for their crimes.”

  “The Ventura place.” My heartbeat quickened. “You blocked the truck so they couldn't put out the fire because you figured Freddy was in there.”

  “I should have told you earlier, and I'm sorry for that.” He ushered me away into the hall. “We knew the arsonist was planning to hit there. We knew Freddy had murdered those girls, that he got out of jail free. When I got the call about the fire, something in me snapped. I felt as if justice had to be served.”

  “That's not your call to make!” I pushed him away from me. “And Freddy wasn't even there. You could have killed James and Melody. What were you thinking?”

  He slumped against the wall and dabbed his damp eyes. He was on the verge of crying. I had a feeling it took a lot to make Brett cry.

  “I wasn't thinking. I was just blinded by rage,” he admitted. “My dad used to beat my mom, see. Treated her like shit, and I loathed him for it. Ever since, anyone who mistreats women is an evil bastard in my book. And when I found out what Freddy had done, I thought the world would be much better without him in it.”

  “I'm sorry about your mother, but that doesn't give you the
right to pull the vigilante justice card and go after people yourself.”

  “It wasn't like the courts were gonna take care of it. They let him out because he paid them off, remember? You can't trust the system to do right.”

  I trusted it – or at least, I did once. Now that Victor had showed me the ugly side of law enforcement, my faith had been shaken. I didn't know what to believe.

  “You could have killed two innocent people because you couldn't control your anger.” I shuddered at the thought. “How could I possibly be with you after this? What's to say you won't lose control again and hurt me or Jenna somehow?”

  “I would never lay a finger on you,” he swore.

  “I'd like to believe you, but... You're a violent man, Brett. You get in fights and run from the cops for the excitement of it. That's just who you are, and you know damn well you won't ever change.”

  “Maddie, come on. That's not fair.” He chased after me. “I'm not violent. I don't go attacking people without cause. I don't even own a gun.”

  “You don't need one. You do enough damage with your fists alone.”

  In the kitchen, Jenna was telling Charlie about the arsonist. I hung in the doorway, flinching when Brett grabbed my arm.

  “Another thing: It's not fair of you to call me violent when you're the one who begged me to slap you in bed.”

  I whirled around and glared. Then it dawned on me that he was right.

  Something else came to me, too.

  I made him slap me in the face. His father beat his mother. He hated men who hurt women.

  Shit, what had I done? He'd seemed so reluctant, yet I pushed him to do it until he gave in.

  “What?” he snapped. “You got anymore nasty names you want to call me? Might wanna get it all out of your system before going back in there.”

  I should have apologized for that, but I couldn't. I was ashamed of my stupidity – and at the same time, still furious with him for what he'd done.

  “We can talk about this later,” I said flatly. “I haven't seen my brother in eighteen years, and I would like to spend some time with him.”

  He grunted and went to clean up the mess in the kitchen. I turned my attention back to Charlie.