Chasing Fire (45 page)
Authors: Nora Roberts
Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Women fire fighters, #Suspense, #General
“I don’t know you.”
“No, you don’t. I feel like I know you, at least a little, because Lucas talks about you all the time. He loves you so much, is so proud of you. You have to know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.”
“It’s mutual.”
“I know it. Just as I know if you made it a choice between you and me, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Just let me finish, because you don’t know me and, at this point, don’t particularly like me. Why should you? But since we have this opportunity I’m going to tell you your father is the most wonderful, the most endearing, the most exciting man I’ve ever known. I made the first move, he was so shy. Oh, God.” She pressed a hand to her heart, her face lighting up in the dappled sunlight. “I’d hoped we’d get to know each other, date, enjoy each other’s company. And we did. What I never expected was I’d fall in love with him.”
Battling a dozen conflicting emotions, Rowan stared at her melting ice cream.
“You’re so young. And I know you don’t think you are. But you’re so young, and it has to be impossible to understand how someone my age can fall just as hard, as deep and terrifyingly as someone yours. But I have, and I know where the power is, Rowan. I hope you’ll give me a chance.”
“He’s never . . . He hasn’t been involved with anyone since my mother.”
“I know. That makes me very, very lucky. Here comes Gull. From where I’m sitting, we’re both very lucky.”
Gull skimmed his gaze over Rowan’s face before shifting to Ella. “Here you go.”
“That was quick.”
“We call him Fast Feet.” Not sure what to think, Rowan attacked the drips running down her cone.
“Thank you.” After the first taste, Ella smiled, tasted again. “You were right, this cuts the gloom. Take my seat,” she said as she got up. “I think I can walk this off now. It was nice to talk to you, Rowan.”
“Yeah. You too.” Sort of, Rowan thought, as Ella walked away.
Gull sat, looked after her. “She’s hot.”
“Jesus Christ. She’s old enough to be your mother.”
“My aunt’s also hot. A guy doesn’t have to want to sleep with a woman to acknowledge the hotness.”
“She said she’s in love with my father. What am I supposed to say to that? Do about that? Feel about that?”
“Maybe that she has good taste in men.” He patted her thigh. “You’ve got to let these crazy kids work these things out on their own. Anyway, my first—if brief—impression. I liked her.”
“Because she’s hot.”
“Hot is a separate issue. She was sitting here grieving for a friend’s loss, worried for that friend and what she might still have to face. Empathy and compassion. She’s pissed off at Leo Brakeman, which shows good sense and a lack of hypocrisy. She told you how she felt about your father, when it’s pretty clear you’re not too crazy about the whole matchup. That took guts, and honesty.”
“Maybe you could be her campaign manager.” Rowan sat back. “She dropped it in my court, and that was smart. I have the power. So you can add smart to her list of virtues.”
“Would you rather see your dad with somebody dumb, selfish, coldhearted and hypocritical?”
“You’re no dummy, either. Hell, let’s buy two bottles of tequila. I could use a good drunk tonight.”
“Who says I’m a good drunk?”
ROWAN CHECKED
in on Matt when they got back to base, and found him sitting on the side of his bed tying his running shoes.
in on Matt when they got back to base, and found him sitting on the side of his bed tying his running shoes.
“I heard it was pretty bad.”
“It was, but it could’ve been worse. Why he wants to blame me and L.B. and, jeez, Marg and Lynn for Dolly getting fired? She brought that on herself.”
Good, she thought, he was pissed off, not broody. “Because people suck and generally want anything crappy to be somebody else’s fault.”
“At the damn funeral? He starts yelling and threatening us at his daughter’s funeral?”
“At my mother’s funeral, her parents wouldn’t even speak to me. They wouldn’t speak to me really loud.”
“You’re right. People suck.”
“We’re going to have a tequila shooter contest in the lounge later. You’re on third load, too. I’ll float your entry fee.”
That got a smile. “You know I can’t compete with you there. I’m going for a run. It’s cooled off a little.” He fixed on his cap. “I got to see the baby anyway, and even held her a few minutes. I’m thinking my parents ought to talk to a lawyer, about custody or rights and all that.”
“That’s a tough call, Matt.”
He gave the bill of his cap a quick jerk into place as he frowned at Rowan. “She’s their blood, too. I don’t want to screw with Mrs. Brakeman. I think she’s a good person. But if that dickhead she’s married to goes to jail, how is she supposed to take care of Shiloh all alone? How’s she supposed to pay for all the stuff Shiloh needs on her salary cooking in the school cafeteria?”
“It’s a hard situation, and, well, I know you already gave Dolly money for the baby.”
Those faded blue eyes flattened out. “It’s my money, and my blood.”
“I know that. It was good of you to want to help with Shiloh’s expenses, to stand in for Jim that way.”
He relaxed a little. “It was the right thing to do.”
“And it’s not always easy to do the right thing in a hard situation. I guess I’d worry bringing lawyers in might murk it up even more. At least right now.”
“It doesn’t hurt to talk. Everybody should do whatever’s best for the baby, right?”
“They should. I . . . I’m probably the wrong person to ask about something like this. Maybe, I don’t know, Matt, if your mother came out . . . if she and Mrs. Brakeman talked about everything, they could work out what’s best, what’s right.”
“Maybe. She looks like a Brayner, you know? The baby? Even Lynn said so. I’ve got to think about it.”
She supposed they did, Rowan decided when he headed out for his run. Matt, his family, the Brakemans, they’d all have to think about it. But she knew what it was to be the child everybody was thinking about.
It wasn’t an easy place to be.
22
R
owan watched Dobie painfully swallow shot number ten. His eyes had gone glassy on eight, and now his cheeks took on a faint, sickly green hue.
owan watched Dobie painfully swallow shot number ten. His eyes had gone glassy on eight, and now his cheeks took on a faint, sickly green hue.
“That’s twenty.”
“Count’s ten, Dobie,” Cards, official scorekeeper, told him.
“I’m seeing double, so it’s twenty.” Laughing like a loon, he nearly tipped out of his chair.
Janis, official pourer, filled shot number eleven for Yangtree. “Experience,” he said, and knocked it back smooth. “That’s the key.”
Rowan smirked, licked salt off the back of her hand, then drank hers down. “I’d like to thank the soon-to-be loser for springing for the prime.”
“You’re welcome.” Gull polished off eleven.
“I got another in me.” Stovic lifted his glass, proved he did—before he slid bonelessly to the floor.
“And he’s out.” Cards crossed Stovic off the board.
“I am not out.” From the floor, Stovic waved a hand. “I’m fully conscious.”
“You leave your chair without calling for a piss break, you’re out.”
“Who left the chair?”
“Come on, Chainsaw.” Gibbons got his hands under Stovic’s arms and dragged him out from under the table.
Dobie made it to thirteen before surrendering. “It’s this foreign liquor, that’s what it is. Oughta be homegrown bourbon.” He got down, crawled on his hands and knees and lay down next to a snoring Stovic.
“Rookies.” Yangtree got number fourteen down, then laid his head on the table and moaned, “Mommy.”
“Did you mean uncle?” Cards demanded, and Yangtree managed to shoot up his middle finger.
Rowan and Gull went head-to-head until Janis split the last shot between them. “That’s all there is, there ain’t no more.”
“Shoulda bought three bottles.” Rowan closed one eye to focus and click her glass to Gull’s. “On three?”
Those still conscious in the room counted off, then cheered when the last drops went down.
“And that’s a draw,” Cards announced.
“I’m proud to know you.” Janis dropped a hand on each shoulder. “And wish you the best of luck with tomorrow’s hangover.”
“Gull doesn’t get ’em.”
He smiled, a little stupidly, into Rowan’s eyes. “This might be the exception. Let’s go have lotsa drunk sex before it hits.”
“’Kay. Drunk sex for everybody!” She waved her hands and smacked a barely awake Yangtree in the face. “Oops.”
“No, I needed that. Everybody still alive?”
“Can’t make that much noise dead.” Rowan gestured to snoring-in-stereo Stovic and Dobie as she swayed to her feet. “Follow me, stud.”
“I’m with the blonde.” Gull staggered after her.
“We can do this.” She fumbled at his shirt when he booted the door shut on the third try. “Soon as the room stops spinning around.”
“Pretend we’re doing it on a merry-go-round.”
“Naked at the carnival.” On a wild laugh she defeated his shirt, but started to teeter. When he grabbed for her, she took them both onto the floor, hard.
“I think that hurt, but it’s better down here, ’cause of the gravity.”
“Okay.” He shifted off her to struggle with her clothes. “We should do naked tequila shots. Then we wouldn’t have to take them off after.”
“Now you think of it. Alley-oop!” She held up her arms to help him strip off her shirt. “Gimme, gimme.” She locked her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, then latched her mouth onto his.
The heat burned through the tequila haze, fired in the senses. The world rolled and turned, yet she remained constant, chained around him. Caged, he met the desperate demand of her mouth, rocking center to center until he thought he’d go mad.
The chains broke. She rolled on top of him, biting, grasping, lapping, then rolled off again.
“Get naked,” she ordered. “Beat ya.”
They tugged at shoes, clothes in a panting race. With clothes still landing in heaps, they dived at each other. Wrestling now, skin damp and slick, they rolled over the floor. Knees and elbows banged, and still her laughter rang out. The moonlight turned her dewed skin to silver, glowing and precious, irresistible.
Breathless with pleasure, crazed with a whirling, spinning need, she threw her head back when he plunged into her.
“Take me like you mean it.”
And he did, God, he did, filling her up, wringing her out while she pushed for more. Catching fire, she thought, leaping into the heart of the blaze. She rode the heat until it simply consumed her.
“Merry-go-round,” she murmured. “Still turning. Stay right here.” This time she drew him close before they slept.
ANOTHER FIRE WOKE HER,
the fire that killed, that hunted and destroyed. It growled behind her, pawing at the ground as she ran. She flew through the black, yet still it came, stalking her to the graveyard where the dead lay unburied on the ground. Waiting for her.
the fire that killed, that hunted and destroyed. It growled behind her, pawing at the ground as she ran. She flew through the black, yet still it came, stalking her to the graveyard where the dead lay unburied on the ground. Waiting for her.
Jim’s eyes rolled up in the sockets of the charred skull. “Killed me dead.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Plenty of that going around. Plenty of dragon fever. It’s not finished. More to come. Fire can’t burn it away. But it can sure try.”
From behind her, it breathed, and its breath ignited her like kindling.
“HEY, HEY.”
Gull pulled her to sitting, shaking her by the shoulders on the way. “Snap out of it.”
Gull pulled her to sitting, shaking her by the shoulders on the way. “Snap out of it.”
She shoved at him, gulping for air, but he tightened his grip. He couldn’t see her clearly, but he could feel her, hear her. The shakes and tremors, the cold sweat, the whistle of air as she fought for breath.
“You had a nightmare.” He spoke more calmly now. “A bad one. It’s done.”
“Can’t breathe.”
“You can. You are, just too fast. You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep it up. Slow it down, Rowan.”
Even as she shook her head, he started rubbing her shoulders, moving up her neck where the muscles strained stiff as wire. “It’s a panic attack. You know that in your head. Let the rest of you catch up. Slow it down.”
He saw her eyes now as his own vision adjusted, wide as planets. She pressed a hand to her chest where he imagined the pressure crushed like an anvil. “Breathe out, long breath out. Long out, slow in. That’s the way. Let go of it. Do it again, smooth it out. You’re okay. Keep it up, in and out. I’m going to get you some water.”
He let her go to roll to her cooler, grab a bottle.
“Don’t guzzle,” he warned her. “We’re in slow mode.” When she gulped the first swallow, he tipped the bottle down. “Easy.”
“Okay.” She took another, slower sip. She stopped, went back to breathing, with more control, less trembling. “Wow.”
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