Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) (19 page)

“He does,” agrees Joe. “Do you know that I was talking to him the other day and he told me that his wife is a narc agent?”

Elle looks fired up. “Seriously? That’s so hot! Let’s have a dinner party and we can invite them and hear all the stories.”

“There she goes,” Paul says with a chuckle.

Reaching over, I rest my hand on Joe’s forearm. “Maybe you could cook? I’d help.”

He seems lost in thought for a moment and I can tell Paul is trying to read his expression.

“He’s a gourmet chef,” I announce proudly.

“I used to be,” Joe responds quietly.

He looks like he’s in pain. I shouldn’t have pushed so soon.

“You don’t have to cook,” Elle says.

“Maybe I will. Let me think about it.”

I take a tortilla chip and scoop up some guacamole before offering it to him.

He takes it with a smile and settles back in the red booth.

We’re good. Really good.

Two days later we’re in the station and just finishing up the after-dinner clean-up when we get a call about a freeway crash on the 101. I hate freeway accidents in general, it’s dicey dealing with injuries and drama while cars are speeding past mere feet away. Add in the dark at night and it can be especially harrowing. A few years ago a guy from our station was hit at full speed trying to get back on the truck. He lived, but he’ll never walk again.

We’ve already been informed it’s a multi-vehicle pile-up, and we speed into action. When we arrive we aren’t the first truck at the scene, and the Highway Patrol is busy shutting down lanes. Jim, Charlie, Joe, and I jump off the truck to check in with the crew already at work, as the first ambulance arrives.

Jim and Charlie are directed to the third car in the pile-up and Joe and I move to the fourth. The airbags have been deployed and Joe gets busy deactivating them while I check on the passenger in the front seat.

“Ma’am, we’re here to help you. Are you okay?”

She whimpers and looks down.

“Can you tell me where the driver is?” Judging from the bent metal and shattered window it appears that the door was kicked open so the driver could get out.

Lifting her hand, she points forward. I lean sideways and spot a large man yelling near the front of the pile-up. “The one in the black jacket?” I ask.

When she nods and closes her eyes tightly, I notice her eye is swollen and turning black and blue, and her lip is split open. I run my hand over the deflating airbag, trying to understand how she was injured, but then it occurs to me that an eye wouldn’t be turning black and blue this quickly.

I lean in closer to her and gesture toward her eye and lips. “Ma’am, you’re injured. Was this from the accident?”

Her eyes fire up with fear and I have a sinking feeling in my gut.

“This isn’t from the accident, is it?”

There’s a long pause, her eyes brimmed with terror as her gaze shifts to the distance where the man in black is still yelling.

I back away from the window and turn back to Joe. “See that guy in the black jacket. He’s this vehicle’s driver. Can you go see what he’s up to?”

He nods toward the woman. “Is she all right?”

“I don’t think so.”

I turn back toward the woman. “Can I ask your name?”

“Katrina,” she whispers.

“I’m Firefighter McNeill, but you can call me Trisha,” I say gently.

She nods at me, casting her gaze downward again.

I notice her legs are bare, and her skirt is ripped. Her thighs have several dark bruises scattered over her pale skin.

I know protocol but I can’t help it, whatever is happening here is too close to home for me, and protocol can go to hell.

I nod forward. “Did he do this to you? Is he your boyfriend?”

She presses her hands over her face as she nods, and I hear a muffled sob.

My fingers curl into tight fists. In the distance it looks like Joe is trying to calm the bully down. I want to kick his ass to the moon and back, but I bite down my fury.

“You know there are places to get help, Katrina. I can assist you in getting to the best services,” I say softly.

She shakes her head vehemently. “He has a really bad temper.”

“That doesn’t mean he can get away doing this to you. It has to stop.”

“He promised me.”

“And he broke his promise. Katrina, I’ve been through this. I was beaten and sexually assaulted by my boyfriend and what I can tell you is that it will only get worse. You need to get help.”

“He’ll kill me,” she whispers.

A chill runs up my spine as my emotions swirl into rage.

Joe returns to the car. “We need to get her out of the vehicle so she can be checked.”

“What did he say?”

“He said a lot of things,” he says with a grimace.

“Is Jared coming back for me?” she asks, her eyes filled with panic.

I look up and see the asshole walking our direction alongside the freeway.

“Not if I can help it,” I say. “Joe, can you watch her for a minute?”

He narrows his eyes like he isn’t sure of my plan, yet nods.

I start walking toward the beast and it suddenly hits me that he’s three times my girth. He could take me out if I’m not careful. I need to stand my guard.

“Jared?” I ask. “I need to ask you about your girlfriend.”

“What?” he barks with an aggravated expression.

“She’s been battered, and not by the car accident. Are you responsible for her injuries?”

“Is that what she said?” he asks, his eyes wild with anger.

I grit my teeth. “Answer the question. Did you beat her?”

Joe, who until now had been leaning into the car talking to Katrina, suddenly twists to watch me. He rises up and starts walking toward us.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Jared spews. “What I do with my girlfriend is none of your fucking business. And if she didn’t have such a mouth on her, none of this would have happened. So if she told you I beat her she can shut the hell up.”

I lean toward him and slap my hand on his chest and push. “So is that it, then? Beating a woman makes you feel like a big man?”

He steps back with his eyes narrow and dark. “Keep your fucking hands off me, bitch!”

“Your momma must feel really proud of you, asshole.”

He looks around angrily, and when he sees Joe he calls out to him, “Did you hear what she said, man? I’m going to sue the hell out of this broad accusing me of all kinds of shit she knows nothing about. I want to make a report!”

Joe’s gaze is steely as he approaches. He ignores me completely and addresses the asshole, “I’ll take care of this. Excuse us one moment.”

He calls out to one of the medics, while pointing to Katrina. “She needs medical attention.”

As soon as the medic opens Katrina’s car door, Joe grabs my arm firmly and drags me several paces down the emergency lane.

I shake my arm free of his grip and storm farther away. If he’s going to reprimand me I may have to punch him in the face.

“Trisha, stand to,” he calls out in a tone I’ve never heard before.

I glance back at him with an exasperated look. “Are you fucking serious?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve just broken every protocol and put yourself at risk for suspension.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “So now I’m the bad guy here? Well fuck you. He beat her, Joe. She has a black eye and bruises everywhere and she’s terrified he’ll do worse.”

I turn and march away, knowing I’m acting unprofessionally, but I can’t bear his censure.

He grabs me again, and pushes me back. “You know this needs to be handled by the police and social services. You could’ve just put her in serious danger with how you handled that. What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I can’t just write a report and pass this into the system with the hope that she gets help. She needs help now, before something worse happens.”

“This isn’t your battle to fight Trisha,” he insists.

I fight a tear back as my lower lips trembles. I can’t be a coward now. “It
is
my battle to fight, Joe.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is because I was
that
girl. I was beaten and sexually assaulted by my asshole boyfriend. I know what it feels like to not ask for help. Like it was my fault, somehow.

He looks like I punched him in the gut. “Who beat you?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I insist.

“It sure as hell matters to me,” he says.

“His name was Sam. I haven’t seen him for five years but I’ll hate him the rest of my life. He broke me, and if it hadn’t been for Mike and my family, I may never have gotten back on my feet.”

Joe drags his fingers through his hair before glancing back at the rest of the action around the accident. It hits me that I was so absorbed in my vengeance, that I missed all the other chaos that needs our attention.

He gently rests his hand on my shoulder. “Please just do this for me, and don’t argue. Okay, Trisha?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go sit in the truck, and wait for us to finish up what we need to here. Can you do that?” he asks.

I nod, feeling hollowed out and entirely defeated. Dropping my head, I walk to the truck.

The ride back to the station is silent. I’m sure the other guys are wondering why I was sent to wait in the truck, but no one asks. When I finally have the courage to glance at Joe it’s hard to read his expression. Somewhere under his exhaustion I see what I imagine is a mix of anger and pain. I’ve never seen him look so dark.

After the rigs are in the bay Joe gets off the truck first, and then turns back toward the rest of us with a stern look.

“Meet me in the office in five minutes, McNeill.”

“Yes, sir,” I say quietly as I watch him walk away.

“You in trouble, T. Rex?” Jim asks.

“Yeah, and it’s not looking good.”

“What’d you do?”

“Went off on an asshole at the scene. He was a victim in the pile-up but he had beat up his girlfriend earlier, and let’s just say that pissed me off.”

“Yeah, that’s one of those jacked up situations that pisses me off . . . what did you do?”

“I did what I had to, but I’m going to pay for it now.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

It’s a long, dread-filled walk to the office. I knock on the closed door.

“Come in.” His muffled voice sounds stern.

I close the door behind me and sit in the chair in front, on the opposite side of the desk to him. We sit silently staring at each other for at least a minute.

“Are you all right?” he finally asks.

“Not exactly,” I answer. “I’m worried about the woman. Leaving her with that asshole is every kind of wrong.”

“I alerted the medical team, and they assured me that her injuries would be under scrutiny by the sexual assault team at the hospital.”

“Good,” I sigh. “That makes me feel a little bit better.”

“Do you understand how serious your infractions were tonight? You endangered a victim, nearly endangered yourself, and then you were belligerent about it. What the hell, Trisha?”

I glare at him but keep my mouth shut tight.

“I had to give you a time-out in the truck, for God’s sake. We sure as hell expect more from you than this kind of behavior.”

Something about hearing that I’ve let Joe and my team down hits me and I feel my guard falling. I’m starting to see things from his point of view. I try to think of how I can explain my enraged response at the scene.

“I’m sorry, but that asshole acting like he had a right to do that to his girlfriend . . . it was a trigger for me.”

Joe takes a deep breath and spreads his fingers slowly over the desktop. I’m just as distracted by his big manly hands as the first time we met alone in this office.

“I wish you’d told me about your past, Trisha. I would’ve understood what was happening with you tonight. And not just tonight, but what about when we’ve been intimate? I would’ve handled things differently with you.”

“How so?” I ask, trying to stay calm. It sounds like he has regrets.

“I would’ve been more careful.” His voice is quieter now, no longer harsh.

My eyes grow wide. “Careful? What does that mean?”

“I would’ve taken things much slower with you, and I would’ve been more gentle.”

“Please don’t feel that way, Joe. Besides, that would have made me crazy.”

“But that first time I kissed you at the station. I was too aggressive. I was all over you . . .”

I sigh. “That was so hot.”

“Did that make you feel bad after?”

“The way you were all over me? Good God, no. Why would I have felt bad?”

“You know, post traumatic stress or something like it. Is that why you were so distant with me after?”

“I was distant because I was still mad over the stuff I overheard with you and the guys. You know that. As for the kissing, I think it was very clear that was consensual. As I recall, I had my hands all over you and was kissing you back.”

“You were,” he agrees.

“I trust you, Joe, and you’ve never given me a reason not to. So please don’t regret a thing in that regard.”

“I don’t know, Trisha. I don’t think it’s as simple as just telling me it’s okay.”