Burning Ambition

by Amy Knupp

  “Craig was with you?” The rock in Faith’s gut sank deeper.

  “We’d just gone to a matinee.”

  Faith closed her eyes. “Mom, did he know Craig was with you?”

  “I introduced them. He seemed fine. What else was I supposed to do, Faith? It was awkward, but we’re all adults.”

  How about don’t move out in the first place?

  “Maybe he’s at a doctor’s appointment or something,” Faith said. “But meeting your boyfriend might not have gone over as well as you’d like to think, Mom.”

  “I didn’t plan it that way. I’ll call Will and Paul and see if they’ve heard from him today.”

  Faith doubted her dad would call her brothers, even the two who checked in most often, but it was worth a try.

  “Let me know. I’m at work.” The alarm sounded over the intercom. “I have to go.”

  She and Joe headed inside to hear the details of the emergency. It was a car accident, so the engine and the ambulance would respond. Faith and Joe were assigned to the truck for the day, so they stayed put.

  “Your mom saw him last night?” Joe asked as they walked off the apparatus floor, back into the station.

  “She and her boyfriend.” Faith couldn’t help the anger that laced her words. She followed Joe into his office.

  “I kind of gathered. Same guy you met?”

  “Same guy. Pretty sure my dad had no idea before that.” Faith sat down hard on the chair in front of Joe’s desk, racking her brain. “Did you call Leo Romero?” The mayor of San Amaro was also one of her dad’s good friends. Maybe he knew something.

  “Wasn’t sure if I should. It might be nothing. Maybe he fell asleep in a lawn chair in your backyard or something.”

  “It’s been hours since he was supposed to be in. But you’re right. Let’s leave Leo out of it for now.”

  “Does he have any other good friends besides the mayor?”

  “The police chief.” Faith chuckled humorlessly. “This job is his best friend, I’m afraid.”

  “Why don’t you run home to see what’s going on?”

  “Who’s going to cover for me?”

  “The three of us can handle things until the engine returns. Won’t take you long. If we get a call, you can catch up.”

  She hated the idea, but concern for her dad overrode her worries about work. “It’ll take me fifteen minutes, tops.” Faith hurried out of Joe’s office to her car.

  A short time later, Faith was back at the station with no answers. There’d been no sign of her father at home, nothing unusual or out of place. His truck was missing, so he’d obviously gone somewhere of his own will. The question was where?

  BY EIGHT O’CLOCK THAT evening, Faith and the rest of the guys had just returned from an unexciting trash fire. Her dad still hadn’t shown up at the station, and her concern had ebbed into anger, whether justified or not. Who was the parent here? Who did he think he was to disappear and worry everyone?

  And what if he was in serious trouble and here she was being petty?

  She started helping the guys clean up the truck and refill everything, but distraction pulled at her, made it tough to concentrate on the job. She met Joe’s gaze and he walked over to her. “Heard anything?”

  “My phone’s inside.”

  “Go check. I’ll take care of this.”

  She hurried off to retrieve her messages, and when she heard her brother Paul’s voice, her shoulders sagged in relief.

  “Dad’s okay, Faith. Well…yeah. He’s going to be fine. Call me and I’ll fill you in.”

  She clicked on her brother’s speed dial number, puzzled by the somewhat ambiguous message and that he’d called instead of their mom.

  “Hi, Faith.”

  “What’s going on, Paul? Where’s Dad? And Mom? Why couldn’t she call me?”

  “Don’t you want to talk to your favorite brother?”

  “Of course,” she said impatiently. “Tell me. Is he okay or isn’t he?” The rock was back in her stomach even though apparently her dad was alive.

  “He’s fine. Mom found him on the boat.”

  “The boat? What the hell was he doing there?”

  Paul sighed, and she pictured him taking his glasses off and rubbing his forehead. “He was passed-out drunk.”

  It was like a bad soap opera.

  “Mom had to rouse him and take him to the E.R. They’re probably about done there. Faith, I’m sorry. You said he was losing it, but I had no idea….”

  “Yeah, well, who would guess the model citizen would go off the deep end and turn into a binge drinker?”

  “This wasn’t the first time?”

  “Not the first time, no. So you’re sure he’s going to be okay?”

  “He had some mild alcohol poisoning, but they pumped some fluids through him and he’s mostly coherent now, according to Mom.”

  Only thirteen hours after he was supposed to be at work. Faith kicked a spare helmet that had fallen on the floor.

  “Mom’s still with him?”

  “Last I knew. She said she’d drive him home. Do I need to fly back?”

  Faith blew out a frustrated breath, tempted to say yes, but… “No. I’m beginning to realize there’s nothing anyone can do. He’s determined to screw up his life. Who are we to try to stop him?”

  “You don’t mean that, Faith.”

  “Oh, I do,” she said. “Thanks for calling, Paul. I’ll go see him as soon as I’m off duty.”

  “Keep me posted, please.”

  “Yep.”

  She ended the call and paced back and forth in the hallway for a couple of minutes, fuming and trying not to show it. Jaw locked, she finally headed back out to the garage to help with cleanup.

  “We’ve got it taken care of,” Penn told her as she walked up. “You look like you could kill someone.”

  “And here I thought I’d calmed down. Thanks for covering my share of work tonight.”

  “You owe me one.” He said it with a smile, and Faith nodded, distracted, then made a beeline for the door.

  IF JOE HAD ANY QUESTION about Faith’s state of mind, it disappeared the second he entered the exercise room. He admired her form as she beat the living hell out of the speed bag, hoping it wasn’t his face she was imagining.

  She must have gotten news about the chief.

  Joe leaned against the wall near her and waited for her to take a break. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her uniform into workout clothes, and sweat was starting to soak through her T-shirt.

  After another couple of minutes of pummeling, she stepped back, breathing hard. Her arms had to be ready to fall off.

  “Did you hear from your dad?” he asked.

  Faith didn’t look at him. She walked over to the hanging bag and threw a couple vicious side kicks at it.

  “I heard from my brother. My dad is okay.”

  She kicked the bag hard enough to send it flying each time. Joe made a mental note not to piss her off. He waited for her to say more, but she was determined to destroy the bag or die trying.

  “That’s all?” he said between her sequence of punches and a flurry of roundhouse kicks. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Finally, she turned and looked at him. The hair at her temples was soaked with sweat. She mopped her forehead with the bottom of her shirt, and if he wasn’t so damn honorable—yeah, right—he would’ve enjoyed the view of her bare, flat abdomen.

  “Telling you would only serve to drag you farther into the Peligni family drama.”

  He fought not to show how frustrating she could be. “I’m asking, Faith.”

  “As my captain?”

  He pushed himself off the wall and closed the space between them. “No. Not as your captain.” Their eyes met and held, and for a moment, he saw beyond the tough, pissed-off-woman act to the scared daddy’s girl.

  When she blinked, tears appeared at the corners of her eyes, evoking an unfamiliar something in Joe.

 
Faith sat on the bench that ran the length of the wall, her shoulders sagging. Joe settled next to her.

  “I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, knowing stuff about my dad that maybe you shouldn’t,” she said after a prolonged silence.

  “We can pretend I’m not an officer for a few minutes.” He had no idea what he was doing, but for once he wasn’t going to overthink it. He was compelled to be a sounding board for Faith, if that’s what she needed.

  “My dad went on another bender,” she said quietly. “Drank himself into unconsciousness. My mom found him on the boat, still docked in the marina, thank God.”

  Joe swore under his breath and fought the urge to touch her. “Do you need to get out of here? Go see him?”

  “That sounds strangely like something a captain would say.”

  “Probably so. Scratch that. Anything I can do, Faith?”

  “There’s nothing any of us can do, apparently. I’ve tried. I am going to have words with him, though.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be in his place.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Didn’t we establish on the beach the other day that we couldn’t do this kind of thing?”

  “What kind of thing?” he asked, knowing full well what she was talking about.

  “I’m not supposed to be chatty or casual. You’re not supposed to be nice. We’re not supposed to exchange more than orders and yes sirs.”

  “I could do without the sir,” he muttered, standing up and halfheartedly punching the speed bag once. “We did. I tried. Turns out it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?” She eyed him suspiciously. Tiredly.

  “Keeping it strictly business. There are lines I can’t cross, but talking to you about something besides safety drills and hose sizes isn’t one of them.”

  She continued to stare at him, nodding. “Do me a favor, will you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Give me some advance notice if you change your mind again.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind again. I like you, Faith. Whether that’s wise or not.”

  She stood, her arms crossed. “Just don’t let anyone know it, okay?” She smiled briefly. “I’m heading to the shower.”

  She walked off and left him standing there with all kinds of uninvited, unwelcome, erotic as hell images in his mind.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “GOOD,” her mom said when Faith walked in the door of the Peligni family abode after her shift ended the next morning. “You’re home.”

  “So are you.” Faith knew on some level she was being foolishly hopeful with that statement, but was momentarily thrown by her mother’s appearance in the kitchen.

  “No. I’m leaving for home now,” Nita said pointedly. “He’s threatened to go in to work, but I think he needs a day off. Sober.”

  “She’s divorcing me and still trying to run my life,” Faith’s dad said grumpily. He sat at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, as if everything was totally normal.

  With her mom there, Faith could almost make herself believe it was.

  “You won’t die if you miss two days of work in a row,” Nita told him. “Unless you pull a repeat of yesterday. If the alcohol didn’t kill you, I would.”

  Just the thought of what her father had put them through had Faith’s blood pressure shooting up again, and the rage she’d suppressed all night threatened to blow.

  Her dad looked chagrined. He raised his hands, palms out. “I’m not going in to work and I sure as hell am not drinking anything but this coffee.”

  “Okay, then.” Nita glanced around the kitchen—it appeared she had tidied up. “Sweet rolls will be done in a couple of minutes. I’ll let Faith handle you now.”

  “I don’t need anyone to handle me.” Her dad’s voice lacked conviction. Overall, he seemed subdued. He glanced at Faith with some trepidation.

  “Goodbye, Mom,” Faith said, having bitten her tongue since she’d arrived. She walked to the door to see her mother out.

  “Go easy, Faith.”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Faith said.

  Once her mom was gone, she walked calmly—deceptively so—to the oven, removed the tray of cinnamon rolls and set them on the stove to cool. She leaned against the counter tensely, facing her father.

  “What were you thinking, Dad?”

  “I’ve heard it all from your mother, Faith. I don’t need another round.”

  “You know what I don’t need?” Her voice grew louder. “I don’t need to spend the day at work wondering what the hell my dad is doing and whether he’s alive. I don’t need to have people asking where you are, or to try to think of a PC way to say who the hell knows.”

  “I’m sorry to put you in that position.”

  “Don’t put yourself in that position, Dad! When did my father, my idol, the fire chief, turn into an irresponsible drunk?”

  He dropped his gaze to the table and his shoulders fell at her words. Even that pissed Faith off, because he’d never been the type to back down from a challenge or an argument and, dammit, she just wanted her dad back.

  “I’m not handling anything well lately,” he said.

  “No, you’re not. And I get that your life has been ripped out from under you, that you’re hurting. I’m sorry as hell about you and Mom. If there was anything I could do to change it, I would in a heartbeat.”

  “I know that, princess—”

  “But you need to buck up and handle that Mom is gone. Put your big-boy pants on and deal. Self-destructing is not an option.”

  He stood and walked to the sink, staring sadly out the window. Faith felt herself softening some.

  “I know you don’t understand,” he said.

  “I do understand. It sucks.” She picked at one of the steaming cinnamon rolls, blew on it and popped the bite in her mouth. “Maybe it would do you some good to hit the punching bags at the station for a bit. Work out some of your anger at Mom.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, just kept staring outside at the bay. He shook his head slowly. “If I could be angry at her, maybe that would work.”

  “If you’re not pissed, I’m mad enough for both of us.”

  “No.” Her dad turned to look at her. “You can’t be mad at your mom.”

  “Oh yes, I can.”

  “It’s not her fault, Faith.”

  The urge to shake him was overwhelming. “She quit the marriage, Dad. I can’t believe I have to remind you that she walked out on you. Pretty safe to say it’s her fault.”

  “I guess it probably looks that way from the outside.”

  “I’m not on the outside. I’m here in this house, living with you, watching you piss your life away. Trying to find something to help you, anything to get my dad back to the person he’s always been.”

  He walked over to her, palmed the back of her head to tilt it forward, and kissed her forehead. “That means more to me than you’ll ever know, princess.” He shuffled tiredly to the table and sat in his usual place. Leaning both elbows on the surface, he ran his hands over his face. “But there are things that’ve gone on in our marriage that you haven’t been privy to.”

  “I know how much you guys argue about me. My career.”

  “That’s not it. Well, that may be a very small piece of it but it’s all part of a much larger issue. My career.”

  “Not a secret, either, Dad. You’ve fought about that longer than you’ve fought about me. Mom’s always hated how much time and dedication it takes.”

  “Yes. Rightfully so.”

  “It’s your career. You support the family. You’re the fire chief, for the love of God.”

  “It is my career. And I’ve chosen it repeatedly over my family.”

  “Sometimes there is no choice. You do what you have to do. That’d be true with other jobs as well.” Faith strode over to the table and sat down hard in the chair next to him. “Why is that so difficult for her to understand?”


  “She understands that. The problem…” He ran a hand through his thick graying hair and sighed. “The problem is that I’ve screwed it up. Pushed it. Too many times. There are instances when I had no choice but to go into work at an inconvenient time. Nights when I couldn’t get around working an extra few hours. But they’re few and far between.”

  “Like I said, you’re dedicated.”

  “Stop defending me, Faith!” He smacked his palm on the table, his voice booming now. “Your belief in me has always meant the world to me, but this time you’re wrong.”

  She swallowed a protest, because something in his eyes, some kind of conviction she hadn’t seen there for weeks, stopped her. Made her sit there quietly and wait for him to say more.

  “I could probably count on both hands the times it was justified. Staying late. Running out of here at all hours for work. I nearly missed your brother’s birth. Holidays. Canceled family vacations. Hell, Faith, I was late to your high school graduation. So many of those times, I could’ve told the people at work no, I can’t do it.”

  “But that’s what makes you so good at your job. You make sacrifices.”

  He nodded sadly. “I’m afraid one of those sacrifices is my marriage, princess.”

  “So you’re giving up?”

  “You’re the one who told me to move on. Something about big-boy pants.”

  “Quit drowning your sorrows in beer, sure, but give up?”

  “I gave up weeks ago, Faith.”

  “Why would you do that? You love her, don’t you?”

  “Of course I love her.” He shoved his chair back and stood again. Walked over to the counter, his back to Faith. “How long ago did you leave the house, go off to college?”

  “Eight years.”

  He nodded, and when he turned to face her, he was biting down on his lip. “Eight years ago, when it was down to just your mother and me, she warned me. Told me that if I kept running off to work at every opportunity, this would happen.”

  “She threatened to leave you? That long ago?” Faith’s voice rose almost to a squeak.

  He nodded somberly.