Typical.
She growled into the phone, “Damn you, Wilkes. You fake, Luke Bryan wannabe bastard! How could you do this to me, and with Lydia Daniels of all people? I guess you two are meant for each other, you one-hit wonder. Don’t even try to get back with me. It’s over between us!”
She hit the end call button, wishing it was a rotary phone like the one her grandmother had, so she could get the satisfaction of slamming the handset into the cradle. She huffed and paced around the closet-sized space, unable to calm down or think of anything else. She couldn’t believe he had cheated on her.
Someone knocked and gave her the two-minute warning. Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to regain her composure. Once she did, she opened the door and breezed back to the greenroom.
“I’m ready for my hair and make-up retouches now,” she told the staff coolly.
The show must go on.
CHAPTER TWO
SEBASTIAN was focused. He and his team had to be fearless tonight. Controlling this raging fire had already been hell. Sirens wailed and the sound grew louder as an ambulance hurtled to a halt near the curb. Uniformed police officers were already onsite, struggling to maintain the perimeter with the expanding crowd. The once sleepy neighborhood street transformed to a scene from any family’s worst nightmare.
Neighbors gathered outside the burning single story residence, their concerned faces illuminated by the orange and red flames lighting up the dark night sky. The voices in the growing crowd didn’t help. They blended into a monotone rumble, except for one frantic cry that overruled all the noise. Sebastian noticed a woman running up to him, dressed only in a tattered robe, with bare feet and wild hair.
“They’re still in there!” she screamed. “My babies are still in their bedroom! I couldn’t get to them! Oh my God!”
Sebastian was one of the firefighters preparing to enter the house. Others were on the hoses, raining down high arcs of water from several directions. Somehow, the wild flames still pushed dangerously through the windows that had been shattered. The fire was fully involved by then. It took several police officers to safely pull the panicked mother out of harm’s way, and to keep her from trying to re-enter the house. Sebastian felt for her. She had to be feeling overwhelmed with uncertainty.
“We’re going in now, ma’am,” he reassured her as his team geared up to enter.
Time was of the essence. Within moments, he was the first one through the front door of the house. Inside, all he could hear was the deafening hiss of steam as water hit the flames nearby. Three more firefighters followed behind him. None of them were deterred by the wall of fire blocking their path. This was what they were trained to face as a search-and-rescue unit.
“Keep going, guys. Watch your step,” he called out to encourage his crew. They split into two teams so they could cover more ground. No matter how many times he did this, he always got that nervous feeling. As lead man, he was confident in his abilities. He was the right person for the job, and responsible for his team. He knew how high the stakes were, for them and the people they were sent in to save. It was a lot on any one man’s shoulders, but he refused to doubt himself in the heat of the moment. Not this night. Not when there were children relying on him, and a woman out there who would die inside if he didn’t get them out safely.
He struggled between breaths to listen for the sound of children’s voices. The monstrous roar of the fire and his rapid, shallow inhales and exhales through the breathing apparatus drowned out some of the noise. There were also pops and creaks of walls settling, glass breaking, water cascading down walls, things falling around them—everything but the sound he was desperately trying to hear.
Please, let them be alive.
He methodically moved through the house. From the living room, through the kitchen, and into a short corridor that led to several bedrooms, he and his men waded through what felt like the bowels of hell. In the back of his mind, he tried to keep track of the slow-paced movement of time. As slow as it felt, he knew they were running out of it. Behind him, everywhere the fire had died down, there was stillness and quiet. The firefighters outside were making progress. Through the smoke up ahead, he could make out a faint orange glow. It was the last of the crackling fire in this part of the house. But the smoke was too thick for him to see much else. He began to move more quickly. Those kids were running out of air.
Just as he made it to the last bedroom of the house, he bumped into an oddly placed piece of furniture. It sat smack in the middle of the hallway, and stopped him dead in his tracks. Searing pain shot through his knee.
“Dammit!” he growled through gritted teeth.
“You alright, Bash?”
He felt a hand on his shoulder. His team mate Jeff Barker gestured for Sebastian to get back outside to tend to his injury.
“I’m fine,” he shouted back, tensing through the pain until it became a dull throb.
He took careful steps, and there was almost no visible limp. He was too close to turn back now. Pushing into the bedroom, he called out the kid’s names. He looked past the blaze at the bed in the middle of the room. The flickering light illuminated a child-size bundle beneath the covers. He groaned in dread. Then, suddenly he heard it. It was the sound of coughs and sobs, coming from the closet.
He turned to Jeff. “I can hear them!”
With his heart racing, he tested the heat of the door handle. Gesturing for Jeff to stand back, Sebastian carefully opened the closet door. Each of them gathered up a child in their arms. They signaled the other two firefighters performing search-and-rescue, and everyone made it out of the house alive. Outside, he and Jeff passed the kids to the paramedics. The children’s mother showed her heart-felt relief. She kissed her little ones over and over as they were placed into gurneys and lifted into the back of an ambulance.
As Sebastian stepped away from the happy reunion, his leg seized. His knee was injured more seriously than he had first thought.
***
“Just give it to me straight, Dr. Orwell.”
Sebastian was itching to finish up his visit to the emergency room. Flexing his knee, he looked at the x-rays that the orthopedic surgeon loaded on the computer screen.
“See this here and here?” the doctor asked, pointing out two sections with a stylus. “That’s a rip in your meniscus, and those are some tiny bone fragments in the joint space. It’s nothing life-threatening, but it’s going to keep you off that leg for a few weeks, and it’s going to require—”
“Don’t say it,” Sebastian groaned.
“Surgery,” he answered. “Yes, I know that’s not what you want to hear, but we can’t have those fragments moving around. We’ll want to take a closer look by doing an arthroscopy. It’s a simple procedure. We’ll go in with a camera and see what can be repaired. The good news is we can fix it once we know more. For now, you can start some physical therapy, get the arthroscopy procedure, and eventually, you’ll be back on your feet.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“You’ll be out of work for a few months.”
Dammit.
“Did you say months?”
Dr. Orwell nodded, anticipating his protests. He waved his hands to stop Sebastian before he went too much further. “Call it a vacation, Mr. Sullivan. First thing tomorrow, you’ll need to schedule a visit with our day clinic orthopedic surgeon. I can prescribe some anti-inflammatories for you now. I hope you reported this to your employer before you left work tonight.”
“Yes,” Sebastian grumbled, thinking of all the paperwork he had to complete for worker’s compensation to be processed. At least he had great insurance. The fire department took excellent care of its staff.
Dr. Orwell excused himself to see another patient. Sebastian carefully hopped off the examination table and got dressed. He had already been fitted with a brace, and was administered a steroid shot. Thankfully, it made the stiffening joint pain more manageable, although now, his limp had become more pronou
nced. By the time he filled the prescription and drove home, it was after midnight.
He parked his Jeep outside the three-car garage at his house. It was times like this he wished he had installed a garage door opener. With this injury, manually lifting the heavy door was out of the question. He would park in the driveway for a while. He sat there for a minute, gazing up at the split-level, three-story home he had inherited from his late parents. It was a comfortable and attractive house; prime real estate in a cul-de-sac slightly out of his tax bracket. He did not quite fit the profile of his well-off, mostly middle-aged neighbors, but as he had lived there all his life, he got along with them well enough.
For the three years since he had moved back in, he made sure the place kept its curb appeal. He landscaped the lawn, kept the shrubbery trimmed, and suspended colorful hanging plants along the porch every spring. He was no home designer, but got compliments on the great job his contractor had done during a renovation last year. He had even splurged and got them to install a large pair of bay windows that extended from the main floor up to the third level. It was not the largest house on the street, but it held its own, and still felt like home to Sebastian.
He suppressed a cry of discomfort as he climbed out of the Jeep. The effect of the steroid was wearing off. He hobbled along the dim sidewalk, lit only by the streetlight, until he was up the three steps that took him through the short, winding walkway to his front porch. This design was such a good idea at the time. Clearly he had not thought of ease-of-access when the landscaper had recommended it.
By now, Sebastian was in a foul mood. He was returning to an empty house. He would give almost anything to walk in and know someone would be there for him. Frustrated, he fumbled in his pocket for keys and opened the front door. He stepped in and let the door slam behind him, grumbling as he allowed himself an extra-long moment of self-pity.
Because of the pain tonight, he skipped his habit of doing a room-by-room inspection. It was his way of resetting his mind after the adrenalin rush of fighting a fire. He would normally walk through the place, checking every room for hazards. Twice. From the entry hall with its vaulted ceiling, he would skirt the staircase and step into the living room, through the archway to the family room, hitting every place in between until he got to the door of the kitchen to check the back porch. There were almost never any issues, but the practice would ratchet down his post-emergency, hyper-vigilant state.
It was probably a touch of paranoia had him placing his faith in these rituals. The truth was they got him through the tougher days. He was past wondering how weird it might seem to someone not in his line of work. De-stressing was crucial in a job like his, and so were routines. Tonight was just an unusual, but understandable exception.
He climbed the staircase to the second floor, where four bedrooms and two bathrooms sat empty and unused, waiting for the rare guest. Usually, it was his only brother Sam who would visit from Los Angeles. He took the second set of stairs to his renovated third-floor master bedroom—probably another error in judgment, now that he was injured. He walked directly to his bathroom, and filled the deep soaker tub with steaming hot water. It was time to rid his body of the smell of soot. He shed his clothes, and when the tub was full, climbed into the water.
His plan was to stay in for however long it took for his restless pulse to steady. Somehow, he was more on edge than usual. It was a pretty stupid move to keep going after hurting himself in that hallway. He dismissed the idea as quickly as it surfaced. He would do it again in a heartbeat. The children had come close to not surviving. They had avoided tragedy, plain and simple. Now those kids were in a hospital, receiving treatment for smoke inhalation, and were likely to be released before dawn.
Alone with his thoughts now, Aileen was on his mind again. She had really done a number on him. He wondered whether he had been taking bigger risks on the job lately because of his disappointment with how things went down with her, or more generally, how empty his life had become. For now, he blamed it all on Aileen. It was convenient. Grimacing, he stretched out his legs and thought about the coming months. The surgery, the injury, and the recovery were not on his mind as much as the march of hours he expected to be bored out of his skull during this extended time off. He was already sick of being alone.
As Sebastian shifted around, the tepid water splashed over his firm abs. He leaned forward and let more hot water fill the tub, and felt around to lift the drain plug for a minute, letting out some of the water. He settled in more comfortably now. Grabbing the washcloth, he added some soap and scrubbed himself. He rubbed his body in slow, soothing circles, taking extra time with his sore muscles on his chest and arms.
Even in this tired physical condition, and uneasy state of mind, he felt himself quickly becoming aroused. He pictured his sweet and sexy fantasy girlfriend with him in the tub. She had been etched into his psyche since he was a teenager. She was the girl next door—literally. Alexandra Storme had never stopped invading his dreams. And that was where she would remain.
She was mega-star Lexxi Rock now. The girl who had already been unattainable back in high school had shot up to an elusive unicorn status—magical, mystical and completely unconquerable for all eternity. It was how most celebrity rock stars became after finding fame. But at least he had her, here in his most erotic thoughts.
He closed his eyes and pictured her blue, diamond-shaped eyes gazing lovingly into his. It was Alexandra sliding the washcloth along his abs. She kneeled between his legs, ready to pamper and please him. Her arm slid lower, getting dangerously close to his rock hard manhood. He stroked himself as her tiny hands now wrapped around his member. He pictured her lips; lips that could beat out any makeup commercial on TV. She would bite down on her perfectly lush lips, before leaning down to kiss his neck softly.
Before long, he could see Alexandra resting her hands on his shoulders, and lifting herself to straddle him. Her hips would rock as she started grinding on his swollen bulge. She felt so real, so perfect. And when she slowly lowered her warm, wetness onto him, he could feel her clench around him. Water would splash outside the tub as he pictured her hips rising and falling to take him deeper inside each time.
Her head would tilt back before long, and she would take his hands and press them to her sensuous breasts. They were close enough for him to caress them with his tongue. She would moan that sultry sound, bucking her hips more intensely as she finally hit her peak. That image was enough to send him reeling over the edge. He let out a groan as he came, almost blinded by the explosive climax.
Weak from exhaustion, Sebastian relaxed his head on the back of the tub. After a few minutes, he sat up and rinsed the soap from his hands. He turned on the tap and splashed his face and head with warm water, leaving droplets on the tips of his dark brown, spiky hair. With a deep breath, he massaged the kinks out of his neck.
The only reason he had a hard time shaking Aileen was she had him convinced. Unlike his fantasy of being with Lexxi, Aileen was the first woman he could see himself getting more serious with. Everyone before her—and there were many of them—had been just for fun. Too bad Aileen already had a future with the man she married and cheated on. When Sebastian had discovered she had a husband, he threw himself into his work, and had begun to date casually again. It killed the time, but was not nearly enough anymore. Worst of all, he had gone back to his skepticism about settling down. To him, it was a natural after-effect of unknowingly dating a married woman.
Tonight was one of those rare moments when he longed for conversation and companionship, two things not likely to be found in his contact list. He got the urge to call Aileen from time to time, just to see how she was doing. They had such a good thing going back when they were together. But in reality, she had a good thing going, while she had her cake and ate it too.
He had ventured back out on the dating scene since he found out she was married. He was positive he didn’t need to reach out for her at a time like this. It would just be stringing her
along…scratch that, it would allow her to string him along. She would get the sex, and he’d get to return to an empty house. He was not going there again. Ever. Aileen was the last in a long line of failed dating mishaps, and her drama finally convinced him that something long-term was probably not in the cards for him.
Sebastian lingered in the tub until his fingers were wrinkled and the water was beginning to feel cold. The throb in his knee had eased, so he climbed out of the water and dried off. Chest bare, he stood in front of the mirror and studied the stubble on his cheeks and jawline. He could wait to shave on his day off. He walked to his room and pulled on boxers. That’s when it sank in. Every day for the next few months would be a day off.
Fuck.
It was a disaster. That realization stole the rest of his energy. It was now too much work to go back downstairs to the kitchen for something to eat. He made a mental note to make the appointment with the day clinic, and walked to his bedroom window.
He looked out on the normally quiet street—another habit, and something he saw as his contribution to the neighborhood watch. There was an ambulance outside his neighbor, Maxwell Storme’s home. He let the curtains drift closed and limped over to his bedroom, wondering what might be going on next door. If they needed help, Max or his girlfriend Rosa would have called. He had enough on his plate, so he left it alone.
At the moment, his personal disaster was the idea of recuperating alone. It was not the first time he wondered what it was about him that made it hard to hold down a woman for much longer than a few months. Sure, it was the job, for one thing. Most women he met wanted him in their beds, and many more gravitated to him because he was a firefighter. Sooner or later though, they would discover they couldn’t handle his crazy shifts, or the fact that what he did for a living was dangerous business.
“Best to just do what we always do, Bash,” he said to himself. “Soldier on.”
He turned on the television in his room, lowered the volume to almost zero, and climbed into bed. Again, he wondered what was going on next door, but it was late, he was tired, and news travelled fast on the close-knit street. He would find out sooner or later. He picked up his phone from the night table and searched through his contact list.
Disguise Page 2
