When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) (33 page)

Someone pulled at my jeans. A deep voice came next. “Hey, aren’t you the one that was looking for Cicely the other night?”

I wiped my face, glad that none of my men were around to see me.

Get it together, man.

I looked down. The Vet sat in his wheel chair and stared up at me. Black ash smudged his brown skin. He looked more old and tired than the night I’d seen him. A weariness etched within the wrinkles under his eyes. His jacket had more tears and black soot covered his hands and legs. He must’ve been helping the others movie bodies.

“Yeah.” The word came out in a choked sound. “I’m the one that came looking for Cicely.”

“Follow me.” He didn’t wait for me to come or even look over his shoulder to make sure I was walking behind him.

“Where are we going?” I forced myself to keep up with his fast wheels as he rolled over the pavement now covered with ashes, hoses, and water.

“I got something to give you.”

“What?”

“Her things.”

What?

We rounded the corner and traveled toward a vacant lot that had a broken down school bus sitting on blocks. A long handicap ramp stuck out the back. It was the only thing that survived on the block. It must’ve appeared normal a day ago, now every piece of metal was coasted in black. Cracks marred the windows.

“Cicely always said she would die in that room.” The Vet got to the ramp, guided his wheel chair up, and disappeared into the dark bus. “I just didn’t think it would be from a fire.”

I peered inside. All of the leather on the seats had bubbled, probably from when the fire had encased the bus in flames.

“She always said it. ‘Vet, I’m going to die in that room.’ Every damn day. I hated smoking with her. She could be pretty depressing.” He rummaged in around one seat, delivering booming sounds that echoed throughout the tattered bus. “She had me keep this box and told me to give it to her hero. I thought she was high, when she said it, until you came looking for her that night.”

“I wasn’t her hero.”

“Cicely had a magic about her. She could always see things. She used to tell me to play certain numbers and damn if they didn’t win me a little something. But she said that if she’d played those same digits, nothing would’ve happened. Said, she had bad luck in life.” He lifted a box, placed it on his lap, and rolled back my way. “When I saw her yesterday, she told me again, ‘Don’t forget about that box, Vet. I’m going to die soon. I saw it.’”

My head went blank. I couldn’t deal with this. Whatever all this information was. I just wanted to go back home and sit in the dark with a bottle of something.

“So here you go.” The Vet gestured to the box.

“I’m supposed to take it?”

“I guess so. I don’t mess with the dead. A lady like Cicely is liable to come back from the dead and haunt me, if I don’t do it. So go ahead, I won’t even charge you.”

Tired, I rubbed my eyes and grabbed the box. “Thanks for that.”

“You look beat up.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“In some ways.” He stared off to the side as men continued to carry dead bodies away. “This shit looks like a battlefield.”

I swallowed as I held the box in my arms.

“You know how messed up the military is?”

“No.”

“It messed me up so much that even though all of those burnt shells are people that I cared for and talked to, I’m still excited to be around it.”

I couldn’t look at him anymore. Backing up, I turned around and walked away. There was no time to look into the box. I’d already broken down. Whatever Cicely had decided to save, it wouldn’t be happy and full of joy. Besides, there was too much work to do tonight. No doubt we would all be cleaning up the streets until dawn.

Rushing, I put the box in my car, locked the vehicle, turned back around, and ran to the scene.

I had to focus on each second. Each step. Each body that needed to be covered and bagged. Each crackle that had to be watered down. Each hose that had to be removed. Each man and woman that had saved the day. Each citizen that slept safely in their beds too close to this damage. Each family member of the ones that were lost to the flames.

I couldn’t linger on the past. Not Cicely or my part in her demise. Not the future and the girls. Not Kassie and the love that I might’ve lost, nor the love that I may no longer be able to give.

I had to push on. Move forward. Race and help. Fight with my brothers and shut away the noise of my grief.

I had to be the hero.

Chapter 25

Kassie

A
ll
day, every local Sarasota channel played the news of the Tamiami Trail fire. Some of the national networks showed it, too.

The guy who had started the whole thing had been a prominent judge that lost it. One of the girls in the hotel had begun blackmailing him. Apparently videos and her letters of threats had been discovered in his home. He’d written a long suicide note on how he would leave this Earth, but damn sure to all of the whores of this city with him.

He’d taken more than that. A hundred and fifty-five people died in the fire. Many owners were out of business and probably tons of dealers and pimps, too. The question of how this could have been avoided came up more than once in the news. People began making noise, complaining about the prostitution problem in the city and the crime, drugs, and homelessness that had plagued that area.

City officials began talking, next, trying and clean up the whole affair, but no one wanted to listen. Too many had died. Some were young girls that had turned to selling their bodies, because they believed they had nowhere else to go. Others got trapped into human trafficking. The rest were lured by drugs and the wrong type of men.

The whole thing enraged me. I didn’t have daughters, but damn if these girls weren’t my children in some way. Weren’t all of these kids ours?

The urge to do something roared within me. I had to write about this in some way. Make a change. Do something other than sit on the couch feeling sad.

Lorenzo hadn’t called and I understood why. He had more things to do. Every city servant walked those streets. There was something I was certain about with Lorenzo, he might’ve had a serious anger problem, but he dedicated a lot to saving others.

He was out there. I knew it in my bones.

Damn it. Be careful.

By that evening, Tamiami Trail had been opened again. It was as clean as it could be. All the damage and bodies removed. Truckers and travelers could ride through the busy road in peace as they gazed at the destruction on both sides.

I dialed Lorenzo. He didn’t answer.

By then, Ellis had sobered up, come over with a swollen face, and apologized for his behavior. Throughout his apology, he looked around as if Lorenzo might be hiding in the shadows ready to pounce.

Maybe a punch in the face was a good thing.

Once Ellis realized Lorenzo wasn’t there, he asked to spend time with Rich for the week. He planned to keep his hotel and take Rich back and forth to school. I obliged. Mom brought our son to the house and he left with him, promising to make sure Rich went to bed on time and was helped with any school work.

I almost told him, “You better or Lorenzo will beat that ass.”

Almost. But I didn’t. It was funny how I could shoot this brother with a gun and he’d still be bothering me. But then a man bigger than him, pounds his face one time, and he’s a changed man.

I shook my head. “Men are so weird.”

I dialed Lorenzo several more times and knew something had to be wrong. Even if he’d been mad at me for kicking him out last night, I was sure he’d talk about it, not ignore my calls. Something had to be wrong.

Maybe he’s sleeping. He could be tired. I don’t know. I have no idea where he lives. What can I do, but keep calling?

By ten that night, I had called for the tenth time. I had no pride. I had to hear his voice and make sure everything was okay. Even if he was mad at me, he would have to say something to let me know that he’d made it out okay during that Tamiami Trail incident.

By midnight, I’d had enough of sitting around. It probably was a bad idea, but I decided to drive to his fire station. I could guarantee any firemen on duty was passed out in bed, but somebody had to wake up and confirm that Lorenzo was alive and uninjured. Then Lorenzo could continue to ignore me.

I threw on some clothes, jumped in my car, and got there in no time. I didn’t even have to search. Lorenzo’s car sat in the lot, where I’d parked the other Saturday. Although, only the street light shown, I could make out his huge form slumped over the wheel.

Is he sleeping?

I shut off the car and got out. His body never moved.

What’s wrong?

As soon as I arrived to the side of his car, I knocked on the window. I didn’t startle him. He took his time leaning back and looking up at me.

Our gazes met. The window remained between us. He made no move to open the door or say anything. So I did it for us.

I pulled the handle and opened the door. “Are you okay?”

His voice sounded hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Answer me first.”

“Now’s not a good time.”

“Why not?”

“The fire. . .”

“On Tamiami Trail. Yes. I saw it all over the news.”

He looked away from me. “Cicely died in it.”

“Your ex-wife?”

“Yes.” He pointed to a big dingy box in the passenger seat. “And that’s all I have left of her. I can’t even look in there and see what she considers her memories. But whatever it is, that’s all I have of her to give to my girls. I fucked up.”

I held my hand to my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Even worse. There’s something I didn’t tell you. I’ve lied about who Cicely was to almost everybody. Not my close friends, but my girls don’t know. My family doesn’t know.” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “As far as they know, Cicely is in Costa Rica doing missionary work. I made up this whole story about why she ever comes by. I had Rockstar do fake pictures. Even had a female call the girls every now and then. I. . .”

“You tried to give the girls a clean and hopeful picture of their mother, instead of showing them the reality.”

“Yeah. I lied a lot. And now, shit is about to hit the fan.”

“How long have you been lying?”

“Since the girls were young.”

“But you told me everything.”

He turned to me. “I know and you didn’t judge me.”

“I can’t judge you for her actions.”

“Well. . .she’s dead now so it doesn’t even matter.”

“It does.” I went to him. “Push your seat back.”

He gave me an odd look, but did as I asked.

Without even asking, I climbed into his lap, got as comfortable as I could, and faced him. “Close the door.”

He made sure my leg wasn’t in the way and shut us in. “Kassie. . .I’m not sure I’m ready to. . .”

“When you feel bad, you should always come to me or at least call. I would like to start this tradition as soon as possible.”

“Kassie. . .”

“I’m writing about us.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “You’re the hero in the story.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” I sighed. “But in real life, I’m your hero. Is that okay? Can I be there for you like you want to be there for me? Can I beat up females that bother you? Can I soothe you after a rough fire? Can I hold you when you have a nightmare?”

More tears fell from his eyes. How odd it was to see a strong man cry. He wiped them away and I could see the change come. I knew that it would be the last tear of the day. His gaze hardened and a neutral expression spread across his face.

And so I just said it. “I think I love you, Lorenzo.”

He set his hands on my thighs and leaned back in his chair.

“How do you feel about me?” I asked.

His hard expression remained. “I love you.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“I’m breaking away inside.”

“And I’m here to stop you from falling apart.” Fear rose inside of me, but I shoved it away. “So we have to fix this. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know what I can do.”

“You have to tell them the truth.” I hugged him. The wheel of the car digging a little into my ass. We’d have to get out of this SUV soon so I could stretch my legs, but for now it would have to do. “We’ll have to tell everyone the truth.”

“We?”

“I guess.”

He pushed me back and stared at me. “Kassie, you don’t have to help me do this. And you damn sure don’t have to come with me and tell my daughters that their mother was. . .was what she was.”

He had a lot of good points, but all of that was too late. I’d already decided to write something about this fire and the tragedy of drugs and prostitution on the females in this city. I just didn’t have the information or the path to do it.

Now I had it.

Just like every other problem in my life, I’d solve Lorenzo’s dilemma through writing.