by Kaye, Laura
But she wanted to tell him. “No, it’s okay. I haven’t talked about any of this in a really long time, and it’s nice. I became a nurse because my father died in a construction accident when I was eight. It took the ambulance twenty minutes to arrive. I was with Granny when we heard about it, and we were close enough that she drove us there. She knew the foreman, and he took one look at me and wouldn’t let us get closer. My dad was bleeding out no matter what they did, and he didn’t want me to see him that way. But I wanted nothing more than to go to him. To help him. And that was the day I decided, whatever I did with my life, I would help people.”
Sean frowned, and the concern was plain in his gaze. “What happened to you after your dad died?”
“My dad and I had lived with his parents my whole life already, so my grandparents raised me. I had it better than a lot of kids in that situation. I still had family.”
“Doesn’t mean it was easy, I bet,” he said, his voice gentle.
“No,” she said. “After that, it was seeing my granny struggle with her diabetes that made me wish even more that I had medical knowledge. And it wasn’t just her, either. Diabetes is basically an epidemic among native communities. Granny died from complications of it when I was fifteen. With her gone, I lost a lot of my connection to the tribe because Nana and Pap weren’t very able to get around and take me places, and my ancestry didn’t qualify me for official enrollment in the tribe anyway. All of that made high school interesting. It was hard sometimes to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be with my parents gone and my feet partly in two worlds. So I just buried my nose in books and put all my focus into doing well in school so I could get a ROTC scholarship for the nurse training program.”
Sean gave her a good, long look. “That’s a lot of loss for such a young person. No wonder you’re so damn strong.”
At once, Dani felt warmed by the praise and like such a fake, because, well… “I don’t feel so damn strong.”
“Nobody feels strong all the time, right? But the fact that they put one foot in front of the other and keep fuckin’ going is what matters. That’s strength personified.”
She blinked at his choice of words, and then she held up her left hand to show him the tattoo on her finger.
“What the shit?” he said, chuckling. “Oh. I thought you were flippin’ me off for a sec there.” He took her hand in his much bigger one. “K.F.G. Look at that. See? It’s in your very skin, D.”
“You’re a good guy, Sean,” was all Dani could say to that, because there was suddenly a lump in her throat. One that wasn’t so much about grief as it was about feeling seen for the first time in so long. Damn him.
He winked. “Don’t tell anyone.”
She smirked. “I won’t.”
“I’m glad you stayed, Daniela,” he said, piercing into her with those dark eyes.
“So am I.”
“Should we get some sleep?”
It was the first time she’d talked about any of this in years, and it had left her lighter but exhausted. “I guess we should.”
“‘kay.” He reached back and clicked off the lamp. “Night, D.”
Dani reveled at the deep rumble of his voice in the dark, at the connection of their hands as he laced their fingers together. “Night, Sean.”
It had been so long since she’d slept with another person that, for the longest time, she couldn’t drop off to sleep. Her brain held her there, suspended in the feeling, not, for once, of solitude, but of…togetherness. And Sean Riddick—of all people—had given that to her after so very long.
Dani waited for the feeling of shame to wash over her for so enjoying it, but it didn’t come.
And then she was able, finally, to fall asleep.
Chapter Fifteen
It started the way it always did, with the bells.
Sean hadn’t been asleep for more than fifteen minutes. He’d just racked out after a fourteen-hour shift when the constant buzzing went off and he was up again.
But that’s how it was when you were a Damage Controlman. There wasn’t anyone else, and it was your home that was burning down. Fire was one of the biggest threats sailors faced at sea, which made firefighting—just one of the controlmen’s jobs—among the most important.
The question was, what kind of fire waited for him? He wouldn’t know that until they were standing in front of the beast itself, heat blasting them in the face, smoke threatening to crawl down their throats. The haze of it already hung in the air.
In less than a minute he was in the DC Unit Locker Room and gearing up.
As the fire marshal, Senior Chief Ortez had already donned his bunker gear and protective equipment. “Tonight, Chief Riddick is our on-scene leader and Petty Officer Roberts our team leader. I’ll see you down there,” he said, heading out first to make an initial assessment.
“Did you feel it?” Emerson asked when the senior chief departed.
Sean frowned as everyone began recounting what they felt and what they’d been doing when they felt it. The long and short of it was that a big-ass shudder had rocked through the destroyer seconds before the bells sounded.
“Shit, seriously? I was out cold,” Sean said.
“Damn, Chief, you could sleep through World War III,” Westover said.
“Hey, it takes a lot of shut-eye to look this good,” Sean retorted, glad for the joking and camaraderie. Tension was clear on the faces of the new guys who had joined them only three weeks before. Of course, they’d been trained within an inch of their lives and had run countless drills, but you never knew how anyone would react until they were in front of the fire with flames shooting out at them. Even with all the training, you couldn’t fully know the heat of the real thing until you were in front of it, and you couldn’t know who might panic when the chips were down.
Petty Officers 1st Class Roberts and Khan double checked that all the newbies were kitted-up correctly and gave Sean a nod when they were satisfied.
“Good. Now let’s go put the wet stuff on the hot stuff, boys and girls,” he said before securing the face shield to his oxygen breathing apparatus. They double-timed it through the ship’s narrow decks and hatches, the general announcing system blaring a warning about the fire, until they finally reached the aft engine rooms.
And that’s where they found the enemy.
Sean’s mind cleared of everything except fighting the fire. He turned to his team. “It’s showtime, people,” he said through the voice amplifier on his mask. “We find and evacuate victims, analyze the nature and spread of the fire, remove any combustibles, and get it nice and wet. Heads in the game. Let’s go.”
He and his team poured into one of several connected compartments where the main propulsion systems, boilers, generators, and auxiliary machinery were located, the first of the DC-men fanning out to conduct search and rescue, the ones coming in next continuing on. The smoke was thicker here but at least the fire hadn’t spread this far.
Leaving a few of the others to complete a sweep of that space, he led a group into the next compartment. Sean nearly tripped over a sailor sprawled across the floor. “We’ve got a vic here,” he called, stepping out of the way so that the others could clear the hatch while he knelt to assess the sailor, who had burns on his face, arms, and hands. At Sean’s touch, the guy’s eyes rolled open and he mumbled something Sean couldn’t make out. “Hang in there, seaman.” Sean peered over his shoulder. “Keaton, over here.”
Flames crawled through the far hatch and up the bulkhead.
Ah, so there it was—the boundary of the fire. Now they just needed to keep it there. I’m coming for you, motherfucker, he thought.
“What do you need, Chief?” Keaton asked. He was one of the newbies and assigned to first aid for this incident.
“Get him out to the passageway,” Sean said, waving over another of the men on first aid duty.
Sean hustled further in, passing two more victims who were already being assisted, and crossed into the fir
e zone in the third compartment, which was where things got dicey. They had a Bravo fire on their hands, which referred to the combustible liquid fire roaring in front of them from what appeared to be leaking fuel oil. The heat was so intense he could feel it through his gear.
Taking a further moment to assess the extent of the fire, he rounded the wreckage of equipment to see a gaping hole pouring out thick smoke and flames into the room. This was likely the source of the shudder that apparently everyone else on the ship had felt except him. And what he saw here was bad news. Leaks were spraying out and catching fire, turning into a spray fire that meant—fuck a duck—that this mofo wanted to spread.
“Get two lines going,” he shouted to his team leader, who directed the nozzlemen and hosemen into position. When they had the hoses manned and pumping water into the heart of it, Sean kept a close eye on the teams and stepped in to advise the nozzleman working the spray fire on where to best focus to try to rein this bitch in. The last thing they wanted was to lose control of it, and Bravo fires were notoriously volatile. Using his wireless comms, he called in an initial report regarding the location and nature of the damage to the fire marshal and Damage Control Central.
Beneath some debris, Sean spotted another victim. Carefully, he lifted off pieces of metal to free the man. Suddenly, Keaton was right by his side and lending a hand, and then they were joined by Jackson, one of his most experienced controlmen. The unconscious sailor had burns all down his front, but what worried Sean was the impact injuries they couldn’t see.
“I’ll go get a spine board,” Keaton called out over the roar of the hoses and the flames, but before Sean could respond, he was already taking off. Sean appreciated the kid’s quick response and initiative, because his gut was telling him they might not have much time.
Jackson gave him a look that said she knew it, too. “I can handle this from here, Chief.”
Nodding, he made for the guys manning the hose. Their efforts were just barely keeping the fire on the liquid pool side under control, but despite all the water they were shooting at this sucker, the spray fire appeared pretty damn close to a lost cause. He watched them work for a few more minutes when the smoke and flames cleared just long enough for him to spot several oil drums lined up against the far bulkhead. And that was when he decided that shit was about to get critical.
They had a major combustible risk. It was time to pull out.
He went to both teams and gestured toward the door. “Pull out. We’re initiating the Halon system.” They evacuated the compartment and backtracked the way they’d entered, the boundarymen spraying down the bulkheads as they went and securing each of the hatches to create an air-tight seal. Back in the cooler passageway, Sean made sure everyone was out before the final door was closed, then he met the senior chief at the actuation station and advised him of the situation.
His superior agreed with Sean’s assessment and immediately engaged the switch that shut down the ventilation fans to the affected compartments and initiated the Halon system, which used a combination of liquids and gases to suppress fire. A warning horn sounded immediately, and a sixty-second countdown began that gave anyone in harm’s way time to evacuate.
It should’ve all been good from there, but instead, it was where shit started to go sideways.
Just then, word came through Sean’s earpiece that the initial explosion had apparently ignited an electrical fire in the maintenance compartment below where they’d been working.
“How do you want to handle it, Chief Riddick?” his senior chief asked.
He appreciated the trust and confidence the question represented. So Sean continued to take charge. Using his wireless comms, he called for back-up personnel and then divided his team into two until that back-up arrived.
“Keaton, Westover, you’re on reflash watch,” Sean said to two of his newbies before issuing commands to others that he no longer remembered. Because those turned out to be the only two that mattered…
Then he and the rest of the team descended one more deck to assess and contain the electrical fire. It was a nasty bitch of a fire, too. Charlie fires always were. And it was already threatening to get out of control. Luckily, no one had been injured here, so after assessing the fire, the extent of the damage, and in consultation with one of the electrical specialists, he made the call to engage the Halon system here, too.
He was just feeling good about getting things under control in relatively short order when another explosion rattled the ship.
What the fuck was that?
The public address system crackled on, announcing the locations of the fires and directing all hands to their stations.
Then DC Central was in his ear with the news that would change his life: there’d been a massive reflash event on the deck above resulting in multiple casualties.
Sean hauled ass up the ladder and through the passageways, the weight of his gear and the air tank on his back making him feel like he was running through molasses. One refrain ran through his mind: Don’t let it be Keaton and Westover.
Oh, Jesus, don’t let it be my guys.
Chapter Sixteen
“No! Nonono…”
The mournful shout jolted Dani awake. Blinking into the darkness, she was disoriented, but then Sean’s pained voice reminded her where she was.
And, oh, God, she’d never heard him in so much pain, not even once after he got hit. His whole body shuddered.
Dani moved closer and laid a hand on Sean’s chest. Beneath her palm, his T-shirt was damp and his heart was pounding so hard it was as if he were running. “Sean,” she said, gently shaking him—which wasn’t easy given how tense every muscle in his body was. “Sean, hey. Wake up.”
“God, no,” he rasped.
The sound of his voice made Dani’s heart ache. In the hospital, she’d written off the bad dream he’d had as being a result of the accident, but this seemed like something else altogether. “Sean, it’s me, Dani. Wake up.”
His head jolted off the pillow. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Hey, it’s okay. You were having a nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you, but it seemed bad.” She couldn’t make out his expression as he dropped his head heavily and scrubbed a hand over his face, but with the other hand he covered hers where it rested on his chest.
On a long sigh, he released a single word, “Fuuuck.”
Dani wasn’t sure whether or not to push, but he’d been there for her earlier in the night when she talked about all her losses—okay, well, not Anthony—but all the rest. She could be here for him for whatever this was. So into the quiet of the room she asked, “Wanna tell me about it?”
A long moment passed before he finally said, “Gimme a sec.” Then he slid off the bed and padded to the bathroom. The light of the bathroom made her realize he still wore his jeans, and then the door clicked shut behind him. It seemed a long time before he returned, now wearing a pair of boxers and a different T-shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed with his head hanging on his shoulders.
Dani hated the defeated cast of his body language. Whatever this was, he needed to fight it. And something inside her said he needed her help to do it. Which was why she closed the distance between them and hugged him from behind, her knees on either side of his hips, her body fitted against his back, her head on his shoulder, and her arms gently wrapped around him. “I’m listening if you need to vomit out whatever that dream was about.”
There was a soft rumble that was almost a chuckle. “Vomit is about right.”
“I’m worried about you. I’d hug you harder but I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, the darkness making it easier to voice the affection she felt towards him. The protectiveness. Exactly when had those feelings started?
“That’s okay. I’ve never been much of a hugger anyway.”
“Oh,” she said, loosening her grip. “Should I—”
“No.” He caught her arms and encouraged her to hug him again. “I like this. It’s not that I’m not into hu
gs, it’s just that…”
Dani’s belly had a sinking sensation because it seemed like whatever he was trying to say was rough, and she really wanted him to finish that thought.
“I guess it’s just that, well, I didn’t grow up with anyone ever hugging me, so it’s a sensation I’m not used to is all. Shit.” He groaned low in his throat.
Now her belly did a full-on free fall. No one ever hugged him? What a fucking asshole his father was. She had half a mind to drive to Philly and tell the elder Riddick to go fuck himself with a cactus.
“That’s a real fuckin’ sexy thing to admit, huh?” he said, his voice low in the darkness.
Dani snuggled in against his back and moved her mouth closer to his ear. God, he felt really damn good, all big and muscular against her. Sean Riddick had no problems where being sexy was concerned. But she decided to play this another way. “Look, I just want to get to know the real you. Not the short, two-dimensional sex object peddled by Hollywood.”
If his chuckle was anything to go by, the ‘Deadpool’ line worked. “How do you know so many quotes from the movie already?”
Oh, boy, he was going to love this. “Well, I googled funny lines so I could text them to you the other day, and then I got myself hooked and had to watch it again.”
He peered at her over his shoulder. “You watched ‘Deadpool’ again already? Without me?”
“Guilty,” she said, hiding her grin against his muscled shoulder.
“On the one hand, respect. On the other, from now on, that’s an us thing.” The tone in his voice was all teasing, but Dani’s mind threatened to get all spun up on the idea of anything being reserved as an us thing. Even though—damnit she was a contradictory mess!—it was kinda sweet at the same time.
“Think so, huh?”
“Know so,” he said, facing away again. He shook his head. “Watching ‘Deadpool’ without me.”
She couldn’t help but smile. More than that, Sean made it easy to smile. When was the last time she could say that about anyone or anything? It wasn’t like Dani walked around unhappy all the time. It wasn’t that at all. It was that Sean…well, it was like he turned up the dial on her life, making everything brighter and bolder and funnier and sexier.
