The Fire (Hurricane Book 4)

by R. J. Prescott

  “Yes please. And thank you.” Her door didn’t open and I didn’t get a response. I didn’t reach for my bag to call Tommy, or Joe or any of my friends. Not because I wanted to protect them from Declan or because of what Tommy and everyone else had already endured that night. Not even because it was the early hours of the morning. But because I couldn’t.

  Maybe it was the shock, but I shut down so completely, that when the police arrived an hour later, I was still huddled and shivering against the door. I don’t know how long they were pounding against the glass before I realised they were there, but I do know it took me three tries to open the door because my fingers were dumb. And when the small, female police officer looked at me with sympathetic eyes, I slid back to the floor and cried harder than I’ve ever cried before.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  TOMMY

  When Sue put a cup of tea down in front of me, I very nearly cried like a motherfuckin’ baby. The police were so keen to get my statement, they did it on scene. By the time we were done, the next shift was taking over, so we headed back to the station together.

  By unspoken agreement, we headed straight to the kitchen. Under normal circumstances we’d be shooting the shit together, but the adrenaline from the fire wore off somewhere on the short journey back, and now we were all fuckin’ shattered.

  “You’re a goddess, Sue,” I told her. The liquid was way too hot to drink, but I did it anyway, knowing it would be a balm for my sore, smoke abused throat.

  “How’re we all doing?” Houston asked, sitting down to join us.

  “Just peachy thanks boss,” I replied. “What’s the score with the arsonist then?”

  “The good news is that we caught him, bad news is that the fire took at least one life.”

  “How?” I croaked. We’d been assured that there were no residential apartments on the top floor of the building, and we’d evacuated every one of the flats below.

  “A police contact of mine told me the guy they’ve arrested is Leonard Ryker-Smith. He owns a construction company and a lot of subsidiary construction companies who’ve been given the contract to rebuild several government buildings under the Council’s regeneration scheme,” she explained.

  “I’m taking it the places that burnt down were ones slated for regeneration then,” Wookie observed.

  “I don’t get it,” Hammer said, looking confused. “If he had the contract to rebuild them anyway, why’d he burn them down?”

  “He broke down when the police confronted him late last night and admitted he was on the verge of bankruptcy. He’d bought his way into getting the contracts with back handers, but the process of regeneration involves a lot of public debate and it was taking too long. He figured if he got rid of the buildings, it would speed things up a bit and grease the wheels with the money,” Houston explained.

  “How did the police link this to him? The building’s still on fire so they won’t have gotten any evidence on site,” I asked.

  “The guy we lost in the fire. It was his kid. Twenty-five years old and a shareholder in his dad’s company. He was lighting the fires while Dad was busy getting a solid alibi. Turns out he knew enough about fire to deactivate the sprinklers and prop the fire doors open, but lacked the common sense not to get himself locked out on the roof level.”

  “What was he doing on the roof?” Wookie asked, voicing my thoughts.

  “He set a fire on one of the lower levels, then panicked that it wouldn’t spread quickly enough to take the building down before the engine arrived. So he went up to the roof level to start another fire, thinking that the two fires would merge together and no-one would be any the wiser,” she said.

  “Shit, he locked himself out after setting the fires? What about the fire exits?” Hammer asked.

  “There are external escapes from the eleventh floor down where the flats are, but none from the roof level. He panicked and called his Dad. Smith made his wife call emergency services, but the poor fucker had to listen to his son screaming as he died. 999 traced the call back. The wife and Smith confessed everything when the police got there. The guy was destroyed.”

  “Jesus. Fifteen years in the service and that might be the most messed up thing I’ve ever heard,” Fester said, mirroring how we all felt.

  “I know you’re all tired and want to go home,” Houston continued “and Tommy I know you’ve already given a statement to the police, but I want this one done by the book so we need to get this down on paper while it’s still fresh in our minds. The guy confessed, but if he changes his story later on I want to know that the police have everything they need to nail him to the wall. We nearly lost one of our own over this one,” she said looking towards me. “And I don’t take that lightly. So enjoy your cuppa, write your report and then go home and get some rest.”

  Nobody grumbled at the paperwork. Whether the kid had been the one setting the fires or not, a life was a life and no firefighter took too kindly to losing one.

  By the time I made it home, I was dead on my feet. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed with my girl, pull the duvet over our heads and sleep until my next shift started. Actually, I wouldn’t have minded licking her pussy before I passed out as well, but at this point I wasn’t sure I’d have enough energy to take off my uniform, let alone do anything else.

  Fatigue had me dragging my arse all the way home, but all that fled the minute I let myself into the flat and saw the police officer sitting next to Evelyn. Her eyes were so red and puffy, it looked like she’d been crying all night, and when the officer explained to me what had happened, it took everything I had inside of me not to lose my shit.

  Evelyn explained that it wasn’t the first altercation she’d had with that piece of shit, and she described what he’d said to her at the pub. I clenched my fists in frustration but didn’t mention that I’d hit him. Even if Murphy told them about it, there’s no way they’d be able to tie it to me, and it wouldn’t do Evie’s case any good for them to know I’d assaulted him first. If I’d known he was going to ignore the warning and come after her, I’d’ve killed the fucker. The way I was feeling, there was a fair chance I still would.

  “You should know, he’s my friend Liam’s brother.” I told the officer. “Liam is gay and his family are a bunch of homophobic inbreds. They beat Liam up a few times last year, but they backed off when we made it clear he was with us. Haven’t heard a peep from any of the Murphys until Evie was stopped by Declan in the pub though.”

  “Any chance the assault on your friend was reported?” the officer asked hopefully.

  “I doubt it. It was family, so he knew nothing would stick.” She nodded, but I doubted she understood. Things worked differently in our world, and police were rarely the answer to any of our problems.

  “Well, there’s CCTV in front of the building next door which just catches the outside of the main entrance door, so we should be able to place him inside, but the witness downstairs only heard banging and a verbal threat, so it’s unlikely the Crown Prosecution Service will say we have enough evidence to press charges.”

  “What about the marks on her neck?” I argued. The ugly red and purple bruises were making me fuckin’ violent. As if Evie could read my mind, she pulled on the neck of her sweater to try and cover them up.

  “Believe me, I’m on your side,” the officer said, raising her hands in surrender like some kind of fuckin’ hostage negotiator tryin’ to talk me down. “Once I’m able to get in touch with the Police medical officer, I’ll give you a call so we can set up an appointment for you to come down to the station. He’ll take a look at the marks and photograph them for evidence. I have to warn you though, if Mr Murphy denies causing them, the assault will be your word against his. Assuming that the Crown Prosecution Service won’t allow us to press charges with what we have, the best I can suggest is that you apply for a restraining order.”

  The police officer stood up and tucked her notebook away as she readied herself to leave.

 
“I’ll be looking at the security footage and then paying Mr Murphy a visit, so sit tight for now, and I’ll let you know how we get on,” she explained. “In the meantime, if you can think of anything else, just give me a call.” Evie took the card she offered and clutched it tightly.

  “I’ll see you out,” I offered, walking her to the door. When she’d gone, I turned to Evelyn. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself like she was afraid she’d fall apart if she let go.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, and her little sob broke my fuckin’ heart.

  “What the fuck are you sorry for Evie? This is my fault. I knocked him out and damaged his pride. This is all on me.” It gutted me to know that he did this to her because of me. I was so fuckin’ used to doing whatever I wanted without my actions having any consequences and it burned me that Evie had paid the price for my recklessness. If Murphy thought there was no payback coming to him though, he was delusional.

  “I meant, I’m sorry for the timing. You nearly died last night and you must be absolutely exhausted. You shouldn’t have to come home to this.”

  “That fucker nearly raped you, and you’re worrying about me. Babe, you’re breakin’ my heart.” A tear slipped down her face, and then another and she looked so little and lost.

  “Come with me,” I said, my voice so hoarse now it was almost gone. Guiding her into the bathroom, I turned on the shower, and peeling her arms away from her body, slowly stripped her of her workout clothes. Seeing the marks on her neck up close just about destroyed me, but any rage I felt, I buried. There would be time enough to let it out, but not then. Not in front of the woman I loved. I craved war and she, tenderness. But there would never be a day where my needs came before hers.

  When she was naked, I quickly stripped off my uniform and guided us both into the hot water. Resting her head against my chest, I held her tight. The gentle shake of her body as she cried silent tears cracked open my heart, until all I could feel was her pain. There was nothing I could say to erase the ugly memory of what that fucker had done, and I doubted that my promise of retribution would make her feel any better either. So, for possibly the first time in my entire life, I kept my mouth shut.

  When I sensed she was all wrung out, I turned her gently around, shampooed and conditioned her hair before rinsing it out. Washing myself down in some of Evie’s fruity stuff to mask the smoky smell I hadn’t been able to get rid of at the station, I turned off the water and wrapped us both in big, fluffy towels.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, looking as small and as vulnerable as I’d ever seen her.

  “Nothing to thank me for love. For better or worse we take care of each other from now on.” She gave me a sad smile, then reaching up on her tip toes, pressed her lips against mine. The kiss was innocent enough, but she reassured me without words that I was handling things right and giving her the care she needed.

  Back in our room, I took off her towel and slipped one of my t-shirts over her head. It completely swamped her, but the possessive arsehole in me wanted to cover her in my scent. Throwing on a pair of boxers, I waited until she put on her underwear, then climbed up on my knees behind her as she sat, dejectedly on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, as I rummaged around in the bedside table for her hairdryer, then reached over to plug it in.

  “Drying your hair,” I explained. “You hate sleeping with it wet.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Seeing her amused smile, was like watching the sun coming out.

  “Not a fucking clue,” I told her. I’ve rescued people from burning buildings, sparred with the heavy-weight champion of the world and learned how to walk twice, yet blow drying her long red hair without making her look like a scarecrow, was the most complicated thing I’d ever done. After a bit of trial and error, she explained that I’d need to put it up in a clip and dry it in layers. Co-ordinating the brush and the dryer so the fucking hair didn’t go everywhere, was like patting your head, rubbing your belly and singing a song at the same time. A fuckin’ pre-schooler could’ve done it quicker than I could. But, bit by bit, strand by stand, she started to relax, even make fun of me a little. Until, under that shell she’d built to protect herself, I found my girl.

  “I swear to God, I fuckin’ nailed that. I could seriously open my own salon you know.” I was totally lying. My arms were fuckin’ killing me from having to hold them up for so long. If I was a woman, I’d be GI Janing the shit out of my hair rather than deal with that crap every day.

  “And what would you call this salon of yours?” she asked, smiling.

  “How about Tommy’s Hair Lair?”

  “I like it. Catchy and creepy all at the same time. Or there’s always Tousled and Tamed by Tommy.”

  “It definitely has a ring to it.”

  “What about Tommy’s Breath of Fresh Hair?” she suggested, laughing so hard I thought she was gonna pee herself.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!”

  “I love you Tommy Riordon,” she said, when she finally took a breath. Tucking a rogue strand behind her ear I looked down at her beautiful face and wondered how a complete fuck up like me ever got lucky enough to call her mine.

  “Not half as much as you love a good book and a bar of chocolate.”

  “I might even love you more,” she whispered.

  “You say the sexiest shit to me,” I said, turning off the light and cuddling in next to her. She was absolutely exhausted. We both were. And sooner than I expected, safe in my arms, she drifted to sleep.

  There was no peace for me that night though. And there wouldn’t be. Not until I’d dealt with that fat fucker. In many ways, I was the most easy-going of all the lads. I just didn’t sweat the small shit like they did. Someone threatening or hurting my family was the only thing that ever really tipped me over the edge. But knowing Murphy had caused Evie pain, that he’d tried to rape her. It ate away at my insides.

  Evie had no idea of the violence I was capable of, and if I had anything to do with it, she never would. But there in the dark, when images of the attack as she described it ran through my head, I became a man she wouldn’t even recognise.

  Rage.

  Hatred.

  Fury.

  I was consumed by them all. But as long as Evie was with me, I’d lock it down. She’d never know, and tomorrow would come soon enough. Eventually, when I’d run out of plausible options for taking Declan Murphy’s life, I closed my eyes and finally, I slept.

  At eleven o’clock the next morning I dropped Evie off at the library and reassured her that I’d be picking her up after work. We were yet to hear from the police and I knew she wouldn’t feel safe travelling home alone until that fucker had been caught. Truthfully, I didn’t want her going in at all. After everything she’d been through, it would be pretty understandable if she took a sick day or two. But that wasn’t in Evie’s nature. She hated letting anyone down, and I doubt she’d ever call in sick unless she was actually dying. I wasn’t above arguing with her if I thought she was hurting herself by doing it. But the truth was that, despite almost dying in one, the library made Evie feel safe. After the trauma of the attack and my rescue yesterday, she needed the routine and comfort going to work would give her. Besides, there was something I needed to do, and I didn’t want her with me while I did it.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked her, for about the twentieth time.

  “Do you want me to text you at lunch so you know I am?”

  “Baby, I want you to text me every hour on the hour. Preferably with naked selfies taken in the rare book section. But since I know you’re way too good to use your phone during work hours, I settle for a text on every one of your breaks and a phone call at lunch time. And for the sake of my sanity I want to you to keep your phone in your pocket all day. I need to know you can reach me straight away if anything happens,” I replied.

  “Why the rare book section?” she asked, and I loved that she didn’t bat an
eyelid at my naked selfie request.

  “Babe, have you seen how hard your nipples get when you talk about first editions?”

  “Why’d I even ask?” she said, rolling her eyes as she smiled.

  I’d love to say that when she woke up that morning, it was all sunshine and rainbows, but life ain’t like that. Her voice was hoarse from being strangled, her battered body ached and she had to wear a scarf to work so the ugly bruises on her neck didn’t upset people. The spark that lit her up inside may not have gone out, but it’d definitely dimmed and fuck if that didn’t make me want to hurt someone.

  “Be good, and don’t forget about the selfies,” I said, leaving her at the library entrance.

  “You’ll be here at five?” she asked, nervously.

  “On the dot, but wait inside until you get my text that I’m outside.” She kissed me goodbye, then waved as she saw one of her colleagues and hurried to join them.

  Twenty minutes later, I parked up in front of Driscoll’s Gym. Inside, Con and Kieran were sparring as usual, but I ignored them both and headed straight to the office. The nicotine laced smoke that drifted through the door as I opened it confirmed we were alone.

  “What the feckin’ hell are you doin’ here? You should be at home restin’ or did someone forget to tell you that ya nearly died?” Danny said, and I guessed that Kier and Con had filled him in on what went down.

  “Plenty of time to rest when Declan Murphy is in the ground,” I replied, which got me a raised eyebrow. He stared at me for a minute, and I knew he was seeing what Evie had missed that morning.

  “You’d best take a seat then,” he said, and I obeyed, closing the door on the very worried looking faces of my friends.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  EVELYN

  I’d been on edge from the minute Tommy dropped me off that morning. Watching the entrance and constantly scanning the library to make sure that Declan wasn’t lurking around a corner somewhere waiting to grab me. That sickening, bottom of your stomach dread was precisely the reason I was here though. Being with Tommy made me feel safe and protected. I teared up just thinking about how he took care of me. After everything he’d been through, and despite how I knew he must be feeling, he made looking after me his priority. And that’s what true love felt like. It was patient and kind when those were the hardest things in the world to be.