by Olivia Rush
“Goddamn,” he grunted. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”
Baby? A little unexpected, but still nice to hear. A pleased smile formed on my lips as I focused ahead, savoring the feeling of his cock drilling me time and time again. Every now and then, Ethan would raise his hand and bring it down onto my ass, the sharp crack of flesh on flesh cutting through the still apartment air.
It didn’t take long before the orgasm that had been forming since Ethan first touched my pussy with his cock felt on the verge of breaking loose, exploding through me like a bomb. Soft, whimpering noises came from my mouth as I bit down so hard on my lower lip I worried I might draw blood.
“Tell me when you’re gonna come,” said Ethan. “I want to know the second it happens.”
His voice was stern, commanding. Part of me bristled at being told what to do, but another part of me wanted to submit, to do whatever the man inside of me wanted. I threw a glance over my shoulder, taking in the wonderful view of Ethan’s gorgeous body at work.
I didn’t even get a chance to agree to what he’d asked. The orgasm came almost by surprise, rushing through my body with such intensity that my vision blurred.
“Ah, fuck!” I shouted out, slamming my hand down onto the windowsill. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
That must’ve been just what Ethan was waiting to hear. While I was in the grips of my orgasm, Ethan let out a low grunt as he came. I felt the small explosion of his cock inside of me, followed by the hot wetness of his cum. The feeling was…exquisite. My body curled where I stood, the orgasm almost more than I could bear.
After a time, it faded. I let out a heavy breath as I dropped to my knees, feeling his cum trickle out of me as I did. Ethan moved in front of me, his cock only inches from my face. I leaned over and gave it a long, slow kiss, the taste of his cum divine.
It was just what I’d need to shake away the bad memories of the evening. Between our fight and the attack, the tension building inside both of us had found the perfect release. And all I could think about was round two.
15
ETHAN
I woke up the next morning with Chloe curled at my side, her body warm, nude, and inviting. Part of me wanted to give her a little nudge, to get her up and let her know just what I had in mind for the major morning wood I was sporting.
But then the events of yesterday flashed into my mind. I remembered the fire, the fight with Chloe.
The attack in the alley.
My blood boiled as I recalled the incident. The anger that raced through me when I’d turned the corner and saw those two men getting ready to do God-knows-what to Chloe came back with a vengeance. My jaw worked, and my hands clenched and unclenched over and over again.
It’d taken every bit of restraint I’d had to not smash those fuckers into the pavement and put them out for good. And I would’ve been justified, too. But through the rage, I kept in mind that bringing them to justice was the right thing to do.
And on top of everything, the odds were high that those men were the same people who’d been starting the fires around town.
“Hey,” said Chloe, her voice sleepy. “Morning.”
She flashed me a sexy little smile that made it clear she was in the mood for a little morning fun. As tempting as it was, I had a mission ahead of me.
“Morning,” I said, turning my legs out of bed and planting my feet on the floor.
As soon as I did, I felt the soft touch of Chloe’s fingers against the small of my back.
“Any chance I could talk you into staying in bed for a little while longer? I’ve got a little bit before I have to get up for school, you know.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Chloe and saw that she was lying on her side, the white sheet draped seductively over the curve of her hips. Goddamn, did I want to stay in bed.
But those men were out there, and every day that passed meant that it was more likely that another fire would break out. The cops were dragging their feet, and I couldn’t wait around any longer.
“Gotta go,” I said, standing up. “Busy day ahead.”
“Oh,” she said, a tinge of sadness to her voice. “Well, OK.”
It pained me to leave Chloe. Not just because I wanted to stay for some fun, but because after what happened last night, the last thing I wanted to do was leave her alone. But I couldn’t spend every minute of the day watching her. Not to mention that the best thing I could do for her safety was finding these assholes and getting them off the streets.
An hour or so later I was in the chief’s office, letting him know just what I had in mind.
“Not a damn chance,” said Chief Swift, shaking his head. “What did I tell you guys before? You’re not detectives. You go out there and try to solve shit and you’re more likely to make a worse mess out of things.”
“And you’re fine with us just sitting around on our asses, putting out the fires as they happen?” I asked. “Chief, you know there’s something shady going on, not to mention that it’s happening right in our own backyard.”
Chief considered my words, sitting back in his chair and letting the silence hang in the air for a long moment. He looked like he just might relent, but then he shook his head again.
“No, no way,” he said. “Not going to risk it.”
“Chief,” I said, looking down for a brief moment. “Last night, something else happened. After the fire.”
Chief gave me a quizzical look, and I filled him in. I told him about Chloe, what had been going on between us, and what happened to her last night. When I was finished, Chief sat back once again, processing everything I’d just told him.
“Fuck, Stokes,” he said, rubbing his chin with his hand. “You just had to go and step right into it, huh?”
“I guess that’s what I do best sometimes,” I said.
“And what makes you think that you’d even be able to solve this one?” he asked.
“I’ve just got a feeling,” I said. “And I’m very, very fucking motivated.”
“You know, if you go out there trying to play detective, you might get into some serious fucking trouble. And I’m not even talking about with the NYPD. If these guys actually did try to take out a potential witness to the fires, what makes you think they’d do anything less to you?”
“I guess I don’t really have a good answer for you,” I said, folding my hands on my stomach. “But it’s almost like I don’t have a say in the matter.”
Another silence fell.
“You know,” said Chief. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I’m not the young, impossibly fit firefighter I once was.”
“Nah,” I said. “You’re what, pushing forty-five?” I gave him a good-natured grin. Chief responded with one of his own, one that seemed to say: “Very funny, wiseass.”
“I’m sixty-three,” he said, standing up from his chair and walking over to the wall, stopping in front of a picture taken decades ago of him and some of his fellow firemen in front of a truck. “I should’ve gotten out of this game a long fucking time ago.”
“But you’re a stubborn old bastard,” I said. “And stubborn old bastards don’t give up that easily.”
“You’re right about that,” he said. “Or go quietly into the good night like they should. But, I think you might be able to understand the point I’m getting at here, Ethan.”
I raised an eyebrow at this. Chief using your first name was like a parent using your full one—it meant something serious was on his mind. Or you were in some big goddamn trouble.
“No, Chief,” I said. “What’s up?”
Chief worked his jaw for a moment. “You’re the best damn firefighter at this station. And with a crew like this, that’s saying a hell of a lot. I’m going to have to hang up my hat soon, and you’re just the man I want to fill my shoes.”
His words hit me like a damn lightning bolt. Sure, I’d known in the back my head that Chief wasn’t going to be running this show forever but hearing him say it was another
thing entirely. And to hear that he had me in mind for the job, well, it was a hell of a lot to take in.
“Now, I was gonna ease you into this whole thing, which is what I’ve sort of been doing by letting you take the reins on more jobs. And you’ve been knocking it out of the damn park. Your little YouTube stunts have only been the tip of the fine performances I’ve been seeing out of you.”
I didn’t know what to say. So, I didn’t say anything.
“But this little plan of mine might just get flushed down the toilet if you take on something like this. I mean, think about it. You go out there playing detective, trying to avenge your woman. It could work. You could blow this thing wide open… But it could also go all kinds of sideways. And you’d be tainted. No way they’d let me put someone in charge who’d been caught interfering with an NYPD investigation. You’d have that stain on you for the rest of your career.”
He was right. I was risking even more than I’d thought by pulling a stunt like this.
“Right now, typing up ‘Ethan Stokes’ into Google brings up all sorts of ‘hero fireman’ shit. You step in something you shouldn’t, and the word ‘hero’ gets replaced with ‘disgraced.’ And I’d be forced to throw you to the wolves, you know. No way I’d be able to admit to knowing about any of this.”
“Of course,” I said, the gravity of his words settling on me. “I’d never expect you to.”
More silence.
“Then that’s that, I guess,” said Chief. “You’re a grown man. You walk out that door, and your destiny is yours. Do what you think is right. And do a damn good job of it.”
I stood up and extended my hand to Chief.
“Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”
He shook my hand and nodded.
Thirty minutes later I was looking up the name and address of the owner of the first business that’d gone up. Thirty minutes after that, I was at the front door of some brownstone, in the Bed-Stuy neighborhood of Brooklyn, hoping the owner was home.
“Yes?” came the skeptical voice through the intercom.
“Hi, is this Amanda Waller?” I asked.
It took a little doing, but I managed to convince her to let me up. Didn’t hurt that she could confirm just who I was by checking my little viral video.
Amanda Waller was a slight, almost elderly woman with silver hair tied back into a ponytail.
“What sort of anything are you looking for?” she asked. “I already told the police that my store was up to code.” Then she shook her head. “They think I’m some insurance scammer or something of the sort. They came in here, all swaggers and sunglasses, treating me like I’d burned down my own store. Awful, just awful. That shop had been in my family since the nineteenth century. And now it’s all gone.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” I said. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think for a second that you did it. In fact, I think there’s someone in the neighborhood torching businesses for some reason, and I’m going to find out just who the hell it is.”
She narrowed her watery-blue eyes at me in skepticism. “But…aren’t you a fireman? Isn’t solving these sorts of things the job of the police?”
I let a warm smile spread across my face. “I’m doing a little extra credit work, if you understand my meaning. I’ve been in this neighborhood for years, both as a resident and as a fireman. And I’ll be damned if I just stand around and let someone put lives in danger.”
The answer seemed to satisfy her. Amanda smiled and looked away for a brief moment. “You know, I do remember something, now that I think about it.”
“Anything helps, ma’am.”
“These three men came into my store about three days before the fire, said that they were with some distribution company out of Queens. Told me that they’d expanded into the neighborhood, and that they were interested in making me a ‘special offer.’”
I said nothing, listening carefully.
“I told them that I’d been with my distribution company for years, that I didn’t see any good reason to switch. Then they got very insistent, saying that this was a very important offer, and that you ‘always want to make sure your goods are undamaged’—I remember that part specifically.”
“But I told them, no, no, no. One of them said that I was making a mistake, but I didn’t want to hear another word out of their mouths. Then three days later, the fire broke out.”
I shifted in my seat. This sounded promising, but I needed to make sure.
“Anything else you remember about the men? What they looked like, any tattoos—anything like that?”
Amanda looked away for a moment, considering the question. Her face lit up. “One of them, the man who seemed to be in charge, had a long scar on his face. Started here and ended here.” She placed the tip of her finger on her jawline and made a slow, curving shape that stopped at the front of her scalp.
The man with the scar. There was no way this was a coincidence—it had to be the same men.
“Anything else?” I asked.
Amanda shook her head. I could tell that the line of questioning was starting to wear her out. Besides, I’d gotten the info I needed. I thanked her for her time and headed out.
I’d been a little unsure that I’d be able to find anything out, especially so soon. But this was promising, and my investigation had only just begun.
16
ETHAN
“And how many days after the meeting did the fire break out?”
The middle-aged, bald-headed man with a paunch looked away in thought, considering my question.
“How long after the three guys showed up?” he repeated. “Why, it was three days. I remember because the meeting stuck out in my head, and it was three days after the three guys. Three-three, you know?”
I took a sip of my coffee, my eyes locked onto his. The two of us were at an outdoor café in Red Hook where Charlie, the owner of one of the businesses, had agreed to meet. The afternoon was sunny and mild, a few wisps of clouds in the sky.
“Yeah,” I said, turning toward my laptop and typing down the information in my ever-increasing notes. “Makes it easier to remember that way.”
Charlie folded his hands together on the table, steam curling up from his cup of coffee.
“They just seemed so sinister, you know?” he said, looking as though he were admitting to something that he shouldn’t. “And I just put the whole thing out of my head, didn’t want to think about it anymore. I suppose that’s why it didn’t come to mind when the NYPD talked to me. Well, that and the fact that I got the sneaking suspicion that they thought I was behind the fire. Just wanted to get them out of my place as fast as possible.”
“Totally understandable,” I said.
“You, on the other hand, I feel like you’re really interested in getting to the bottom of all this. Feel like I can trust you, you know?”
“That’s because I am interested in getting to the bottom of this,” I said, turning away from the computer and toward Charlie. “I’m not about to sit around while this goes on in my home.”
The fact that Chloe was still in danger didn’t make matters any easier. I wanted these assholes behind bars so badly I could taste it.
Charlie nodded, pleased with my answer.
“What are you even gonna do when you find these guys?” he asked. “I mean, no offense, but you’re a firefighter. You’re not gonna be able to arrest them or anything, right?”
“Right,” I said. “But that’s a bridge I’ll be happy to cross once I come to it. Right now, I just have to track these assholes down.”
I took one more sip of coffee, shook Charlie’s hand, and thanked him for his time. Once he’d gone, I turned my attention back to my notes and tried to piece together all the information I had. The three men were behind the fires—I had no doubt about that.
But having suspects wasn’t enough. I needed some clue on just why they’d hit the business they’d targeted. If I could figure that out, I might be able to de
termine where the men would hit next. So far, I couldn’t decide—there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the businesses.
The next interview turned all of this around, however.
A few hours later, I was sitting in a pool hall with a young woman who couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five. She owned a woman’s shoe store that’d been targeted a little while back. She had auburn hair, a slim figure, and hungry green eyes. Back in my player days, she’d have been the type I’d be all over. Not today, though.
“Um, yeah,” she said, taking a deep sip from her gin and tonic and looking away. “I don’t really handle the business-y end of stuff. My dad’s name is the one on the store papers and all that, so that’s why it struck me as extra weird that these guys were asking me about distribution.”
“‘Distribution’?” I asked.
The word rang out in my mind as soon as she’d spoken it. I thought back to the conversation with Amanda, and how she’d told me that the men had been pressuring her to shift supply distribution firms. And now, here the topic was being mentioned yet again.
“Yeah,” she said. “The people who bring the goods to you from wherever you’re buying them.”
“Mhmm,” I said, suppressing my instinct to tell her I understood the concept of “distribution.”
“So,” she went on, “it was really weird that these guys were talking to me about this stuff. Anyone I worked with knew that my dad was the one to talk to.”
“If they were just some thugs, they wouldn’t know about any of that,” I said. “They’d just walk into the store and talk to whoever was in charge.”
“Right!” she said, apparently pleased that I was onto her line of thinking. “It was weird. And on top of everything, these guys were assholes. And total creeps. One of them even had this really g—”
“Gross scar on his face?” I said. Then I traced the general path of the scar, placing my finger on my jaw and moving it up to my scalp. “Like that, right?” I asked.
