by Pandora Pine
I’d just been McCoyed. I would never admit it, but I felt all warm inside. Like I was being hugged from all angles. My parents had more money than God, but I could honestly say I’d never seen either of them act like this before. They didn’t donate to animal shelters or food pantries. “God helps those who help themselves,” my father was fond of saying. I never understood what he meant, since he wasn’t a religious man. I got it now. That was his politically correct way of saying that he worked hard for his money. You should work hard for yours.
Dallas and Ozzy bolted past us before we reached the front stairs. “Come on, you two. Gotta be to work in twenty minutes. Move your asses.” Ozzy slapped Kennedy’s on the way past. I was half afraid I was next. Ozzy was a big man, I bet his hand would leave a mark for weeks.
Fifteen minutes later my new bed was assembled. I was standing in amazement when Mrs. McCoy came back upstairs carrying bags from Target. “Okay, there are sheets and a quilt in this bag.” She pointed to a large bag on the floor at her feet. “This one has everything for the bathroom,” she called out as she headed into the room. “David’s got food and what-not for you downstairs.”
“We’re off,” Dallas announced, before giving Mandy a hug. I couldn’t help but notice the way she hugged her foster son, as if he were blood. The hug was repeated with Kennedy, who whispered something to her.
“Try not to burn the neighborhood down, huh?” Kennedy grinned at me before bolting out the door.
“One tiny fire and I’m marked for life.” I rolled my eyes.
“One last thing before I go.” Ozzy pulled something out of his top pocket and handed it to me. He wore a mysterious grin. “Shift starts at 3:00 p.m. tomorrow. Be there half an hour early so I can give you the lay of the land and explain your duties.”
I looked down at what he handed me. It was a business card with his name and cell number. “Wait! You’re hiring me to work for you at the firehouse?” In a day filled with surprises, this was the biggest one yet.
“Don’t be late, kid. There won’t be a second chance.” Dropping a wink at his mother, Ozzy was gone.
I turned to Mandy when she started laughing. “I swear that boy is the spitting image of David. If I had a nickel for every time he said that to one of the boys…” She trailed off, turning her attention back to me. “What do you say I help you make the bed?”
I knew what Mandy was doing. She was offering to help in case I didn’t know how to make my bed. She hit the nail on the head. I didn’t. “Sure.” I managed a smile nowhere near bright enough to thank her for what she and her family were doing for me.
“So, Gunnar, tell me about your family.” Mandy had the bottom sheet in her hand.
“You got all night?” I started to laugh.
“Tonight, and every night.” Mandy gave my hand a squeeze.
I believed her. “My father owns a string of car dealerships…”
7
Kennedy
It was another long shift made worse by full moon madness. Instead of rival gangs beating the shit out of each other, tonight there were two drug-related shootings. Thankfully the victim in the case I’d been assigned to work survived her pimp shooting her in the face. The other working girl hadn’t been so lucky. She’d been DOA. I spent the rest of the night working with Detective Mather Welch to compare notes and figure out if our two cases were related.
At the end of our shift we’d been reasonably certain the same pimp had shot both women, but we needed to wait for forensics to come back before making a final determination. In the meantime, detectives from Charlie shift were in charge of going out and finding the pimp, whose street name was Casanova. I’d been so hellbent on catching this motherfucker that I’d nearly volunteered to work a double. Falling asleep for a nanosecond in the Taco Bell drive-thru disabused me of that idea.
All I wanted to do was rinse off in the shower and go to bed. Tomorrow was another day and I needed a good night’s sleep for my next shift. I had a plan to run a honeypot sting to round up some of Gloucester’s johns.
I noticed my parents were gone when I pulled into my driveway. I had a feeling Gunnar telling his life story to my mother was going to make for a long night for both of them. I wouldn’t have been surprised at all to see their car still parked in front of my house.
All the lights in Gunnar’s house were on, but so long as there wasn’t smoke flowing out a window and the smoke detector wasn’t wailing, talking to him could wait until tomorrow.
Nothing felt better than a cool shower on a hot night. Before I’d hopped under the spray, I’d turned the AC down to sub-zero. It was a waste to keep the house that cold when I was at work. It was deliciously chilly when I got out of the shower. I knew sleep was a matter of minutes away, until the doorbell rang.
Pulling on fresh boxers, I hurried down the stairs, still using the towel to dry my dirty blond hair. When I got to the door, I was shocked to see Gunnar through the peephole. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Gunnar’s eyes widened in obvious shock. They slowly slid from my chest, down my abs, to my cock, which had woken up under his intense stare.
“My eyes are up here, boy.” Part of me wanted to smile so he’d know I was just kidding. The other, horny, part of me wanted to throw him over my shoulder and bring him to bed with me.
Giving his head a quick shake, his emerald eyes met mine. “Uh, sorry. I-I just didn’t expect you to answer the door half-naked.”
“It’s past midnight. The witching hour. What better time to be half-naked?” A tremor zinged through my body. He was still looking at me as if he wanted to take a bite out of me.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He anxiously rubbed the back of his head. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about and I figured after you’d gotten home from work would be a good time. I was wrong. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Gunnar turned to leave.
“Freeze.” My voice was deadly calm. I saw him shiver in response as he obeyed. Not many people fucked with me when I was in cop mode.
Gunnar turned so he was peering over his shoulder. “Yes, Kennedy.”
“In the house now. Don’t make me ask you twice.” I didn’t know what the hell had gotten into me. I was sure the kid was just here to say thank you for everything we’d all done for him tonight.
With a sharp nod, Gunnar walked into the house. I took my time shutting the door. I needed an extra couple of seconds to get my ravenous cock under control. It was hard as stone and snaking up my abdomen. If this kept up, it would be sneaking a peek over the waistband of my boxers any second now.
When I was sure my dick was on the way down, I turned to face him. What I saw had me hard again in an instant. Gunnar on his knees in the center of the living room floor. His head was bowed so that his eyes were on the carpet and his arms were held behind his back. Sweet fucking Jesus. What the hell was going on here?
A shiver went through Gunnar. I didn’t know if it was because I’d set the air conditioning so low or because he was excited about me seeing him in this light. Had he researched this online or read some BDSM kink somewhere? I had no idea.
Knowing it was the worst possible idea, I walked over to him. “Gunnar?” My voice had gone soft, while my cock was rock solid.
His darkened eyes lifted to meet with mine. I saw hunger and something else I couldn’t identify.
I jolted with desire and shock when he set his hands on the back of my naked calves and skimmed their way up past my knees. The boy rose higher on his knees until his face was level with my cock. He licked his lips hungrily before running his tongue over my boxer-clad cock. “I can’t thank you enough,” Gunnar whispered.
My brain was on overload. His velvet-soft tongue hadn’t touched my skin directly, but I still felt the heat of him. The ghost of his tongue lingered on my cock long enough for me to crash back to earth at his words. Wait, he was thanking me? “What?” I took a stumbling step backward. My cock deflated faster than an untied balloon.
Gunnar
walked forward on his knees to catch up with me. His hands shot out, latching on to my hips. “You did so much for me today. Let me do something for you in return.”
Jesus Christ, I had heard him right. He wanted to suck my cock to say thank you. “There’s a word for what you’re proposing. In my line of work, something like this will get you arrested.”
“What?” Gunnar’s green eyes went glassy. “I’m trying to thank you.” He scrambled back to his feet, while his hands shot forward to cover his own tenting erection.
“The exchange of goods, services, or cash for sex is called prostitution.” My hands were fisted on my hips. I didn’t know what pissed me off more, the idea that this kid thought he had to reward my generosity by swallowing my spunk, or the fact that he only wanted to suck me off to say thank you, not because he was into me.
Gunnar stood there with his mouth hanging open. His hands dropped from the font of his pants. There was nothing left for him to hide anymore.
If I didn’t say something, this situation was about to go from bad to worse. “Why do you think you have to thank me with sex?” It was the one question revolving in my head.
“How else was I going to thank you?” Gunnar nibbled nervously on his lower lip.
“I don’t know, with your words, maybe? By not burning the fucking block down? With a card? Anything but by hitting your knees.” For a cop no less, I couldn’t help adding in my head.
One tear streaked down his face. He batted angrily at it. His posture had gone from one of defeat to one of defiance. “Pardon me for not being good enough for your sainted dick.” Gunnar turned to go.
It was on the tip of my tongue to stop him, but what was the use? At this point, we’d only end up yelling at each other. With my head still spinning, I watched him go.
Where I’d been ready to go to sleep only twenty minutes ago, I knew after what happened with Gunnar, there would be no sleep for me.
8
Gunnar
Even though the fire station was a five-minute drive from my townhouse, I left an hour before Ozzy asked me to be there. I parked in the municipal lot and tried to get my racing heart under control. Between that and my roiling gut, I didn’t know how the hell I was going to make it into the firehouse. All getting to work early did was give me time alone with myself to go over the shit show that had been last night.
What the hell had I been thinking going over to Kennedy’s house and offering to whore myself out to him? I’d never been more embarrassed in my entire life.
It had never actually crossed my mind that whoring myself out was what I was actually doing, but whatever. It didn’t matter now. I’d gone and killed whatever chance we had to have a relationship of some sort.
Halfway across Kennedy’s lawn last night, I’d realized that my first shift at the fire house was twelve hours away. All I could wonder was how the hell was I going to get through that shift with Ozzy knowing that I’d tried to suck his brother’s cock to thank him for the job? What the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe Kennedy wouldn’t tell him what happened. Yeah, right. Those two were as thick as thieves. Dallas probably knew by now too.
The shakes had hit when I was safely locked in my house. I’d left all the lights on when Mandy and David McCoy left just so I wouldn’t feel so alone. Everything I owned, with the exception of my sleeping bag, was thanks to their generosity. How the hell did you say thank you for that?
Apparently, I said thank you with my whorish, cock-loving mouth.
My head sank to the steering wheel. I’d made my bed. Now it was up to me to man-up and sleep in it. With every ounce of strength in my body, I opened the car door and got out. It was hotter than ever this afternoon. I couldn’t ever remember a summer that was this fucking hot before. I could well imagine how people without air conditioners must be suffering. Thank Christ my townhouse came with central air.
The parking lot was down the street from the firehouse. When I walked up to it, I could see the large bay doors housing the fire trucks were wide open. There were three fire trucks inside the building, one was a hook and ladder truck. In the fourth and fifth bay were ambulances.
Gloucester had four firehouses spaced out over the nearly forty-two square miles of the city. Each house was responsible for serving one quadrant. If there was an emergency bigger than what one quadrant could handle, a second alarm would be added and other first responders in the city would assist. I’d done a shit ton of reading about the Gloucester Fire Department last night when I couldn’t sleep.
My stomach was tossing and turning like a paper boat in a hurricane. I took a deep breath and walked inside. Open-faced lockers lined the wall next to one of the fire trucks. I could see the turnout jackets hung neatly, along with helmets listing the last names of the men and women who donned them.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked from behind me.
Turning, I saw a young man wearing a City of Gloucester EMT uniform. “Yeah, I’m Gunnar Prince. Here for my first day of work. I’m supposed to find Ozzy Graves.”
“Oh, you’re the new guy.” The EMT’s dark eyes glowed with a mischievous light. “Come right his way, Newbie. I’m Hal Rossi.” He pointed toward the back of the bay and headed in that direction.
If I had never met Kennedy Lynch, I would have thought Hal was the most handsome man on earth. He had jet-black hair and brown eyes with black lines. Tiger eyes, I believe they are called. Hal was much taller than me, six foot, four inches I would guess, with the tightest ass I’d ever seen in my life. A more romantic man would have waxed poetic about how that ass looked like something Michelangelo carved from marble.
“Hey, Cap, your newbie is here,” Hal called out as they reached the back of the firehouse. “He’s really early, but you know what they say about proper preparation and all that.” Hal winked at me as he turned and headed away from Ozzy’s door.
From where I was standing, I could see a door with the name GRAVES listed beside it. Screwing up my courage, I poked my head inside the door. “Hey, Ozzy. Here I am.”
“Come on in, Gunnar.” Ozzy pointed to a chair in front of his desk.
As I moved toward it, I took a minute to look around the room. Ozzy’s desk was neat as a pin, no doubt a habit he picked up in the McCoy house. There was a miniature New England Patriots helmet sitting next to his phone and a picture frame facing away from me. Unless I missed my guess, the photo featured his brothers and probably the McCoys.
The wall behind his desk was filled with a huge map of Gloucester. It was one of those old-fashioned ones with fancy scrollwork and what looked like a dragon in the open Atlantic out past Gloucester Harbor. It was gorgeous. Commendations from the mayor and pictures of Ozzy with kids he coached lined the wall to my right. I got the idea that not all his certificates of merit were hanging on this wall. There was probably a drawer in the office stuffed full of others, along with trophies or keys to the city.
When it came to the man himself, Ozzy looked intimidating behind his large mahogany desk. He was leaning forward, making his impressive muscles bunch. He appeared twice his size in that position. I supposed he was doing it on purpose. I relaxed back against my chair and waited for him to speak. His dark hair was cut like he was in the military while his dark eyes twinkled with what looked like laughter. In that moment, I knew Kennedy had told him about what happened between us last night. Christ, I had only been here for five minutes and my battleship was already sunk.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d make it today.” His tone was matter of fact. The look on his face was unreadable. I wasn’t sure if he was serious or yanking my chain.
“Why?” was all I could think to say without giving myself away. If, by some miracle, he didn’t know about what happened with Kennedy, I sure as hell didn’t want to leave the door open for him to ask about it.
Ozzy gave a casual shrug. “First days are never easy. You’ve been through a lot. Plus, there is so much unknown about this job. It’s not like getting a job at Subway, w
ere you know you’re going to be making sandwiches or cutting vegetables all day.”
With everything that happened with Kennedy last night, the absolute last thing that had been on my mind was what my job responsibilities would be here at the firehouse. For the first time since I’d left the house, I felt like I was starting to relax. “I understand that you offering me a job here was your way of lending me a helping hand without me feeling like it was a hand out. I’m here to do whatever it is you tell me to do, although I doubt I’m going to be riding a hose during a fire.”
Ozzy burst out laughing. “We’ll see about that.” He slapped one of his large hands against the desk, making the Patriots football helmet jump. “I guess you know how me, Kennedy, Hennessey, and Dallas became brothers?”
I nodded. “He said you were all raised together in the McCoy house.” I didn’t want to say anything beyond that. What I knew about Kennedy was between the two of us.
“Yeah, that’s about the sum of it. The one thing our parents made sure to teach us was to be grateful for everything we had and to do whatever was in our power to help out anyone who was down on their luck.”
I knew Ozzy was choosing his words carefully. What he had really wanted to say was that his parents had taught him to help out anyone who was less fortunate than himself. I didn’t mind his use of semantics, but on the other hand, growing up the way I did, I could hardly consider myself less fortunate than anyone. “I made some mistakes in my life. Fucking up my opportunity at Boston University is the biggest one of them. I’m hoping today will be a fresh start for me.” I meant those words they weren’t just useless lip service.
“Just know one thing,” Ozzy stood up from his desk. With me sitting and him standing, he looked like a giant. His broad shoulders and larger-than-life personality, only served to make him even bigger. “I’m giving you a chance. What you do with it is up to you. There won’t be a second one.” His serious face morphed into a brilliant smile. “Now, let’s go see my babies.”