by Piper Stone
Landen Weaver pulled his eyes away from the television, giving the burly man sitting at the end of the bar a look of disdain. “Sure. Comin’ right up.” He grabbed a beer mug, tipping and pouring then sliding the heavy glass across the bar from where he stood.
“There you go,” the man laughed as he snagged the weighted mug. He raised the glass and nodded toward the scene splashing across the screen. “How come you never talk about the event?”
Landen watched as the man gulped a good third and sighed. He’d been asked the same question dozens if not hundreds of times. The answer was always the same. “Not gonna happen.” His eyes moved toward the wall behind the bank of liquor bottles. Yeah, he kept a memorial of sorts in the way of pictures. Various photographs depicting friends and former firefighters remained spattered across a solid ten-foot area, reminders of those who’d fought for their country, many of them dying in the blast. Others succumbing to terrible injuries months later. There were some who’d committed suicide, unable to cope any longer. He’d escaped by quitting and moving into a bottle.
“Look at you in that picture. You were a hero. A damn hero, man. You deserved a medal for everything you did. You’re the reason I became a firefighter.”
Landen heard the comment and was taken aback. He tipped his head, studying the young man, still in uniform. He read the nametag and the Engine Company patch. Dear God, the kid was from his old engine company. He also knew the name far too well. Griffen. Shaun Griffen. He recognized the kid, had seen him in the aftermath with his father, another respected firefighter. The boy had taken a liking to Landen, following him around like a lost puppy dog. Why in the hell had the kid decided to join the fire department? Honor. Yeah, he remembered the concept. Shaun had followed in his father’s footsteps. Shaking, he gripped the edge of the bar. “I’m no hero. I was just doing my job.”
Shaun’s eyes remained plastered on Landen. He lifted his glass, giving Landen a respectful salute. “To serve and protect.”
Turning away, Landen rubbed his eyes, a headache forming between them. He could still hear the screams, cries of help. Smoke so acrid that he couldn’t breathe, coughing for days after the initial attack. He wanted to tell the kid to run away, but the duty was ingrained. Just like the way he used to be, the same distinct sense of need to serve. No longer.
“Oh, come on,” another man said as he leaned over the bar, his eyes twinkling. “You were there. You were one of the good guys fighting a war. You were a hero. Christ. Now, we’re talking a celebration of life, not death.” His gaze traveled up to the wall and he visibly shivered.
“Of death? Of carnage?” Landen snapped then reined in his anger. He grabbed a rag and proceeded to wipe an already clean bar top, his frustration building. Shrugging, he glanced at his best friend of almost ten years and had no idea what else to say. Michael O’Brien had been with him since the beginning, in the early days of his stint fighting fires. He’d also been there on the horrific day in 2001, when the world as they all knew it had come to an end.
Michael shook his head and lowered his voice. “You gotta get over it, man. You need to move on.”
“I have moved on. You’re sitting in my bar. Remember?” The purchase of a rundown corner bar had been made on a dare, a challenge from his overbearing father to kick him in the ass. O’Grady’s Bar and Grill had a following, one he was proud of, yet every single regular knew about his previous life. Being a firefighter had been all he’d wanted to do since he was a little boy. Taking after his father meant everything to him. Then came 9/11.
“Right. That’s why you drink yourself into oblivion every year from September first until the twelfth.” Michael sat back on the barstool and raised his arms as if avoiding being swung at by a hard, right punch straight to the jawline.
Landen shook his head and couldn’t help but grin. “Not every day.” But the truth was, he found the two weeks surrounding the wretched memory too difficult to deal with. He turned his attention back to the television, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. Yes, the anniversary of the attacks was important. Yes, the men and women who died for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time was important. And no, he didn’t want to remember. His family had spent thousands of dollars for that diagnosis.
“Hey, some of the guys are going to the site on Labor Day, in remembrance of our brothers lost in the line of duty. You should come.”
He knew Michael meant well. Since leaving Engine Company number 15 two years after the planned attacks, his fellow firefighters had tried to get him to remember in order to forget. His nightmares reminded him well enough. “I’ll think about it.”
“Sure, you will.”
Pitching the towel, Landen walked out from behind the bar, nodding toward the other bartender. He needed time alone to think. Taking long strides, he walked outside, breathing in the early evening air as he watched the world going by. The street was teeming with activity, shoppers and tourists out for an evening stroll, planning dinner with friends or grabbing take out. He wanted no part of their frivolity. He simply couldn’t. He leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, flicking the lighter and staring at the orange glow. Fire. The concept once thrilled him to the core.
He swirled the lighter back and forth in his hands, his eyes never blinking. How many nightmares had he lived through, how many lost moments of his life? After lighting the cigarette and taking a puff, he shoved the lighter back into his pocket and leaned against the side of the aging brick building. Nine years wasn’t nearly long enough to forget the horrific images of death and destruction. Perhaps he’d never be able to let them go or to live his life again.
His thoughts drifted to that particular gorgeous morning. Hell, he’d just graduated and accepted the prestigious position. Only three months into the job and he was living life large. Chuckling, he took another puff and held the smoke, savoring the light burn in the back of his throat. Yeah, he knew the damn habit would eventually kill him. Then again, he was already a dead man, at least inside.
“Hey, Landen. Where’s that pretty girlfriend of yours?”
The couple stopped and waved, the man’s question one of friendship. He knew the young man, had seen him in training several months before. One visit to his old fire station and he’d vowed never to go back. How could he face the demons ever again? “What does she want with a broken-down bloke like me?” Landen teased.
“That’s a very good point.” Laughing, they moved inside, the girl’s laughter lingering even after the door was closed.
He placed his boot against the brick and scanned up and down both sides of the road. So much had changed in Brooklyn in the last several years. Memories were also short. Even those involved in the worst months of anyone’s life had moved on. Maybe that’s why every television station was highlighting the event – so no one could forget.
He stubbed out the butt and sauntered back inside, only to be confronted by a group of rowdy men singing Oh Danny Boy. He stopped short, his breath stolen, his anger brewing. The damn song should be banned. After a few seconds, he stormed in their direction, determined to stop the bullshit. Not in his bar. Ever.
“Hey, hold on,” Michael whispered as he gripped Landen’s arm. “They’re just having fun.”
“Fun?” he hissed through clenched teeth. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Not everyone relives the ugliness every day of their life. Let them alone. Christ. You need to get ahold of yourself.”
Landen yanked away his arm, gave the men a nasty look then stalked away toward his office. At least he didn’t have to listen to the crap. He flopped down in his chair and stared at the computer. Thank God, he was making a decent living, even if his father had other thoughts. He snorted and yanked open his bottom drawer, tugging out a bottle of scotch and a glass. Twisting the cap, he poured a finger then filled the rocks glass. He had nowhere to go and nothing special to do.
The sip was just as the cool liquid should be, a small comfort. He clo
sed his eyes and held the glass to his head as he leaned back. Yeah, he knew. His expensive ex-shrink didn’t have to tell him. Something had to give. A bead of sweat slithered down the back of his neck as another memory surfaced.
“Weaver. Get your ass over here.”
Laughing, he turned around, shaking his finger at his buddy. “I’ll be right there.” He was late for their usual morning meeting, but damn, he was in a good mood. He’d landed the only spot on the Engine Company and his girlfriend of two years was coming into town. Two solid nights of fucking her brains out. Yeah, life was good. He sauntered out of the locker room and into the captain’s office, whistling the entire way.
“And the rookie is late again,” the captain stated the moment Landen walked in.
Clap! Clap!
Hearing the whistles and catcalls, Landen bowed and turned in a circle. “Thank you very much, gentlemen.”
The men continued their whoops and hollers for a solid two minutes.
After high-fiving several of the seasoned firemen, he noticed his captain’s face and stopped cold, standing at attention. Time for fun and games was over.
“All right. Now that the antics have been shoved back into the sandbox, we can get busy. We have a lot going on.” The captain looked directly at each firefighter, his face solemn.
Landen couldn’t help but notice the man’s eyes were twinkling. He stood at attention, hearing every word yet his mind wandered, savoring the incredible moments of a life he never anticipated having.
“That’s it. Let’s get rolling.”
“Hey, Captain, I have a—”
Boom!
Jerking up from the chair, he managed to hold onto the glass as the damning image rushed to the forefront of his mind. The catastrophic moment when the first bomb hit, the sound, the utter wretched sound.
“Hey, cowboy, is this a party for one or can I join in?”
He snapped his head up, his eyes struggling to focus. Then he smiled. “Mmm. So, I’m a cowboy now?”
She flipped her long hair behind her shoulders and sashayed into his office, closing the door with a soft click. “You’re my cowboy. You better not be touching anyone else.”
“Come here, baby. I need those long legs of yours wrapped around me.” Landen shoved the glass on top of his desk as he watched his gorgeous girlfriend sway her hips back and forth, the move provocative and forcing his cock to push against his already too tight jeans. Samantha was good for him, too good, but the woman kept him sane and satisfied. “Better get over here or I’m gonna spank that pretty ass of yours.”
Samantha blew him a kiss and continued her sultry dance, sliding her open hands down her chest and back up, cupping her breasts. She moved closer, her eyes never leaving him.
“You are such a naughty vixen. What I want to do to you.” Landen grinned as he stroked his aching shaft, running his fingers up and down the length of his crotch.
“Oh yeah? Tell me,” she purred and inched closer as she unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her crimson lace bra.
“Damn, woman.”
“Mmm…” She widened her legs and shifted her hand, easing her fingers under her short skirt. “Come on.”
“When I get ahold of you…” The words trailed off as he moved to the edge of his seat, watching the show.
She winked then turned in a circle, bending over and lifting the hem, showing him her tiny thong.
His breath shallow, he growled before rising from his chair and in a split second had her over his desk, his hand on the small of her back. “Bad girl. Very bad, and do you know what bad girls get?”
Yelping, she giggled as he lifted her skirt, exposing her naked ass. “No, tell me.”
“This.”
Crack! Pop!
“Oh!” Jerking up, she palmed his desk, digging her nails into the cool wood.
“A hard spanking. Just like you deserve.”
Whap! Smack!
He smacked her ass, moving from cheek to cheek, his adrenaline kicking into overdrive. Lust roared into his system and he panted as he continued punishing her. This was their game, the way of their relationship.
Pop! Crack!
Moaning, she wiggled yet didn’t fight as he continued. She opened her legs and closed her eyes, a smile crossing her face.
“I should spank you every day,” he murmured and rubbed her already reddened ass before beginning again.
Smack! Slap!
With every hard spank, his balls swelled to the point of sheer agony. Dear God, he wanted the woman. After several additional hard strikes, he slid the tip of his finger down the crack of her ass.
“Landen!” Pushing up, she tossed her head over her shoulder.
“Yeah, baby?” Thrusting his finger into her wet pussy, he shuddered. “So wet.”
“Fuck me.”
The words fueled the beast inside. He fumbled with his buckle, button and zipper, freeing his throbbing shaft. After a quick glance to the closed door, he lowered down, nipping her earlobe and whispering, “I’m going to shove my cock so deep inside of you.”
“God, please.”
Wasting no time, he gripped her hips with enough pressure she whimpered. Thrusting the entire length of his dick into her cunt, he threw his head back, stifling an intense howl. When she clenched her pussy muscles around his thick invasion, he panted and licked sweat off his upper lip. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Harder. Fuck me harder.”
Plunging in and out, he fucked her with no caution, no thoughts of the sounds or movements. He simply didn’t care. Harder and faster he thrust as she arched her back, offering every inch of her delicious body.
Smack!
“Yes!” she muttered.
He continued, his heart racing, swatting her heated cheeks after every thrust. “Mine. All mine.” When he was unable to hold back any longer, he yanked her back until she was standing on her tiptoes. Sliding his hands around her legs, he flicked his fingers over her clit, moving back and forth as she shuddered.
“Yes!”
Exploding deep inside, his entire body shook as the climax roared, becoming one of the most intense waves he’d ever had. He wrapped one arm around her neck, holding her close until they both stopped shaking. “Shit.”
“I like… visiting you in… your office,” she breathed.
He kissed the side of her neck and let her go, shoving his cock into his pants. “A good surprise.”
Turning to face him, she brushed the tip of her finger across the seam of his mouth. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Laughing, he grabbed his glass of scotch, taking a gulp before offering.
Samantha smoothed down her skirt and fastened her buttons before taking a sip. “Why don’t you leave work?”
“Now?” He ran his hands though his hair.
“You own the bar. Remember?”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Oh, come on. We haven’t had an actual night together, just you and I for months. Besides, cowboy,” she whispered as she kissed under his chin. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Landen inhaled, drinking in her perfume. The woman knew how to get to him. Gripping both of her wrists, he eased her back. “Tell you what. Let me finish up some paperwork. Then I’ll come over.”
She gave him an evil eye and sighed. “You better do what you say or else.”
Smack!
Swatting her on her ass, he issued another low-slung growl. “You aren’t in charge. Remember?”
“As you say, big man.”
After she left the office, he leaned over his desk and let out a long breath. He could never be the man she needed. Not now. Not ever.
Landen let himself into Samantha’s apartment. He took in the quiet, listening for any sounds that she was awake. Why would she be? He’d fucked away a solid six hours dealing with a barroom brawl as well as listening to several tales of woe. Truth is, he hadn’t wanted to face questions and he knew they’d come. She was as concerned as e
veryone else. He dropped his keys on the small table in the hall and walked toward her floor to ceiling window. Palming the glass, he gazed out at the lights of the city, his heart full of sadness.
The vantage point was almost perfect, allowing a pristine look of the entire city. She’d been lucky to get the place, had turned the once vacant warehouse into quite a home. He’d been by her side, albeit his heart had never been into the work. What had he been into during the last several years?
When he heard her light footsteps, he held his breath and studied her reflection in the window. Her long blond hair was free of its usual tight confines, several strands falling softly over her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
She remained quiet as she neared, flanking his side. “You worry me.”
“I know.”
“Then, why do you? Don’t you care about me?”
The words stung, filtering into the darkest confines of his heart. “I just…” Exhaling, he had no idea what to say to her.
“What do you see out there?” Her voice was small, almost inaudible.
The question was surprising. “An intolerable world.”
“Interesting.”
“What do you see?”
She inhaled and walked closer to the window. “Hope. Love. An amazing future.”
If only he could see the world in the same way. “I’m glad. You deserve to have everything you want.”
Samantha shook her head and turned her back toward the window, resting against the cool glass. “Don’t do that. You say things as if you’re not going to be around. You are the reason I see hope. You’re the single reason I can understand love. Don’t you see that? Don’t you realize how important you are to me and to this world?”
While the words were heartfelt, there was no way he could answer her questions. “I’m nothing special.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re a hero. You just forgot about the reasons why.” She allowed the words to linger before rising onto her tiptoes and kissing his lips. “I love you, but I can’t stand watching you torture yourself. You need to find peace. Find the man I know who’s hiding inside.”
