Wrapped in Flame

by Caitlyn Willows

  “I’ll go over right away.”

  “Thanks. But without CJ.”

  “Without CJ. Alone. I’ll call you the second I know something.”

  “You’re a good friend, Erica.” He squeezed her shoulder, then walked away.

  Oh the guilt. A good friend didn’t cut bait and desert her friends. A good friend didn’t walk out on the best thing in her life without a word. Isn’t that what had gotten her into the mess with Keith in the first place? Always doing what was expected of her? Was this different because her emotions were fully involved? Where were her instincts when she needed them? She needed distance and perspective, and she needed to be honest about that. If they—if Mike—didn’t understand, then so be it.

  She passed CJ on her way back to the scene. “I need to talk to Mike. I won’t be long.”

  “Actually, he’s right behind me.” He walked on.

  Erica’s heart jolted at the sight of Mike headed her way. Nothing was hotter than a big man in turnout gear. This wasn’t going to be easy when all she wanted was to cling to him. They stopped a foot away from each other, both wary of prying eyes. “I won’t be at the house when you get home. Where can I leave the key?”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I have an extra at the station. Stay at the house. I’ll bunk at the station for now.”

  She clutched her fingers together, trying not to shake. “I…I need my space, Mike.”

  Silence dragged out. She braced herself for an argument.

  “I understand,” he finally said. “I’ll need to grab a change of clothes.”

  Erica shook her head. “I can’t stay at your house. I need some distance…from all of you.”

  He spread his palms out. “And where will you stay? In an empty house?”

  Her chin trembled, but she refused to cry. Not now. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “I’m sure you will.” He was pissed. She’d seen that look directed at people before. “In any event, I’ll be tied up most of the day here and at the station. You’re welcome to stay. You need me, you know where to find me.”

  He tapped the brim of his helmet, did an about-face, and walked away. Considering the force in his stride, she half expected to see gouges in the sidewalk. It took willpower for her to stay in place, to not run after him and rescind everything she’d said. Leaden steps carried her to CJ’s truck. He started the engine when she opened the door. In minutes they were at Mike’s house.

  “Need me to stay with you?” he asked.

  “I’m going over to Betty’s.” She was glad for the excuse.

  “Call if you need something.”

  “Sure.” No promises. Distance. Time.

  Erica waited until his truck disappeared down the street, then got in her car to check on Betty. The Stantons lived on the other side of town in a pretty little cul-de-sac, where neighbors banded together for block parties and Christmas-decoration fests that were the talk of the town. A shame Betty hadn’t been able to find the support she’d needed from them. But then, Betty didn’t talk with any of the firefighter wives about her problems. Not in depth.

  She pulled into the circle of homes as dawn lit the sky. Those dreams of spending this Saturday morning lounging in bed with Mike felt like an eternity ago.

  All was dark at the Stanton home. Even the security lights had switched off. Erica parked in the driveway and dialed the Stantons’ number. No answer there or on Betty’s cell. Betty also didn’t respond to the doorbell or to Erica’s knock.

  “She’s not there,” the next-door neighbor, out to retrieve the morning paper, called out. “I saw her leave around dinner last night. Had suitcases with her.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  The man shrugged. “Didn’t ask. She’s been wanting to keep to herself since, you know. Just figured she was off to see the kids for the weekend.”

  Erica thanked him, then dialed Craig. It wasn’t easy news to tell him that his wife had taken off without a word, but at least he knew she was probably all right. He agreed she could have gone to San Diego to see one of their kids. Too bad his voice said differently. At least she was gone before the house fire, so that eliminated her from the suspect pool. Anything more was between the Stantons.

  She returned to Mike’s house, fully intent on gathering her things and leaving. The prospect of her empty house didn’t hold any appeal. Why not take care of what business she could in the comfort of his home? It’d kill time until she could hit Saturday-morning yard sales, thrift stores, and dollar stores. Everyone knew where she’d spent the night. Her remaining while Mike worked hardly mattered, especially considering her circumstances.

  Erica brewed a pot of coffee and popped some bread in the toaster. While waiting, she executed an Internet search for a Karen Randall in California, pulling up a whopping three million hits. A search of that last name—Randall—twenty-eight million.

  “Now what?”

  Erica took her coffee and toast to the couch. The life-insurance company might have Karen’s contact information from when she was the beneficiary, but the policy had been burned in the house fire. As for the renter’s insurance…that information was in her safe-deposit box, and the bank was closed until Monday. Notify her parents?

  No, she couldn’t deal with them right now. Though she’d like to think they’d support her, she couldn’t take the chance they’d turn this around on her. That instead of offering her sympathy on the fire and her loss, they’d focus instead on the end of her marriage, the fact she’d spent the night with another man, and fault her for not trying harder. She needed shoring up, not tearing down. The irony struck her. She had people to support her, and she was turning her back on them.

  “Ah hell, this isn’t getting anything done.”

  It was seven in the morning. She had an hour, maybe thirty minutes, before people would open their yard sales and she could scope them out, see what she could find. Time enough to get to her place, organize her thoughts, take some measurements for furniture, and plan. Leaving her firefighter family was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. It was stupid. She knew that. But their association with her had cost them enough. Erica refused to put them through any more crap. Maybe once the turmoil surrounding Keith’s death subsided, things could return to normal. Real friends would understand, right?

  And lovers?

  She waved the errant thought aside and forced herself to focus on the here and now, things she needed to accomplish, making list after list in her head as she gathered her stuff and headed to her new rental. Locked on and ready to take control.

  So much so she didn’t realize she had company until she pulled into the driveway and saw Trish holding the front door open while Bub and Berto manhandled an Early American green couch into the house.

  “What the hell.” Erica rolled down her window. “Want to tell me how you managed to get into my house?”

  CJ and Gina came up the walk hauling a kitchen table with a yellow Formica top. “We’re firefighters,” Gina proudly declared. “We can break in and out of anything.”

  “You said you wanted our help moving this morning,” Trish called out. “Here we are.”

  Erica didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or both. She cut the engine and opened the door.

  “We take care of our own, Erica.” The sound of Mike’s voice next to her car sent a jolt of surprise through her.

  “I thought you had to work.”

  Mike shrugged. “I had time to kill before I had to get back to work. The guys are going to help me move the stuff over here from my spare bedroom.”

  “But…”

  “United we stand, sweetheart.” His body consumed the space between the open door and the car. “Friends don’t desert friends. If you think for a minute that any of us are going to let you live in an empty house, if you think for a second any of us are going to let you shut yourself away and deal with this shit alone, you’re crazy. You wouldn’t do it to us, and we’re not doing it to
you.”

  “Mike… What about us? We can’t… People will crucify us.” Even as she said it, she wanted him to pull her against him and tell her it didn’t matter, that everything would be all right, that he’d never leave her side.

  “There is no us, Erica. Remember that. Say it. Mean it. Believe it. Because that’s what’s going to help us right now. It’s the only thing that’s going to get us through. You’ll find it pretty easy after a while. I should know. I’ve been telling myself that since the day you married Keith.”

  He took a giant step away. “Come on, guys. Time’s short. I’ve got to get back to work.” His gaze met hers once more. “I’ll give you space…for now. Don’t get used to it.”

  As she watched him walk away, Erica wasn’t sure if she’d been gut punched or served notice he was coming for her when the smoke cleared.

  Chapter Seven

  Mike clutched the steering wheel in a death grip and cursed himself a thousand times over. Male pride sucked. He never imagined it raged so deeply inside him. One part of him wanted to beat his chest and yell, I’m the man. I take care of you. Another, no doubt wiser, part urged caution. Coming at Erica balls-out might find him without said balls. She’d put up with that kind of attitude from Keith—pushy, aggressive. Mike wasn’t about to do the same to her.

  It was hard, though. He wanted Erica to cling to him, to let him take care of everything, to be the man she’d want in her life forever. He’d waited so long to have her, loved her so much. Instead, she’d pushed him away, thrown up walls because she was scared and in shock. So he threw up his own walls and got pissy about it.

  “Did you tell her you were pulled off the case?” CJ asked.

  “No. She’s upset enough that Posner’s sniffing around us.”

  “It’s better to tell her before she finds out,” Bub said from the truck’s backseat. “No telling how she’ll react if she finds out you weren’t honest.”

  “She’s on the edge,” Berto said behind him. “I’ve see that freaked-out look in people’s eyes before. And she thinks we’re going to leave her be? I hope you set her straight on that.”

  No, he’d made it worse. “She should know you all well enough by now to know better.”

  “And you?” CJ drummed his fingers on the console between them.

  “Things have changed.”

  They responded with a communal grunt. Thankfully, they left it at that.

  “We getting everything from your spare bedroom?” Bub asked as Mike backed the truck into his driveway.

  “Yeah. And that extra recliner from the living room. The end table and lamp next to it as well.” She’d need kitchen stuff too. “I’ve got some boxes in the garage. We can load up some cookware, dishes—”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to have her live here?” Berto asked.

  “She’d never stand for that.” They needed to fully understand the situation, even if that meant violating her confidence. “Keith pushed her hard. I won’t do the same thing. I don’t want her to feel as if she doesn’t have a choice.”

  “Well”—CJ flipped his seat belt off the second Mike cut the engine—“there’s not pushing, but then there’s letting her know exactly where you stand and then giving her space.”

  He had a point. “When did you get to be so smart about women?”

  CJ snickered. “Never. It’s easier to see stuff when you’re not directly involved.”

  “I’ll remember that when it’s your turn in the box,” Mike said over the laughter in the backseat.

  CJ tossed up his hands. “Hey, stranger things have happened. But I’ll tell you this”—he jabbed his finger at Mike—“I can guarantee I’m not going to scuff my toe in the sand and dick around. I’m going to go for it. Because if you’d done that from the start, we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in now.”

  Verbal uppercut, right to the jaw, and straight to the core of the matter.

  He’d been beyond miserable this last year, wanting Erica and seeing her with someone else. High road be damned. Now that she was free, now that he’d had a taste of what it was like to have her exclusively, Mike couldn’t stay away from her, no matter how much space she wanted. No matter how much sense it made to lie low until the investigation was over. She belonged in his arms, in his bed, under his body—in his life forever. Everything about Mike demanded he step up and prove to her…so many things he couldn’t begin to count them all. He couldn’t wait any longer. He wouldn’t wait any longer.

  Mike swallowed the emotion that welled up. There was nothing he could do to fight the fear that went with it. He fell back on words he’d lived since the night before. Don’t fuck this up.

  “We gonna load this stuff up, or are you going to sit there looking all moonfaced?” Bub asked.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Mike pushed the truck door open and headed for the house, trying to ignore the snickers behind him.

  What he’d thought would only be one truckload wound up being three. He expected Erica to challenge him at some point, to tell him enough was enough, especially during the second load when her uplifted eyebrow had met their arrival. But she let him have his way. That alone gave him the courage to take a stand. All he needed was time alone with her.

  And if she doesn’t feel the same?

  Mike followed Erica’s every move, watching her set things to rights or telling others where she wanted stuff. Everyone but him. She was flame in his arms, and the burn still simmered under his skin. It always would. Then she caught him staring. Her cheeks flushed, her breath caught. The sweep of those long eyelashes shielded her big brown eyes seconds before she locked her gaze on to his. The cacophony around them faded to background noise. The others could be sitting on the sidelines with popcorn, and he wouldn’t have noticed. Or cared.

  She ducked into her bedroom. Mike followed and filled the gap between them, stopping short of pressing her against the wall. His heart raced. Skin tingled.

  “Keith came between us when he was alive, Erica. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him do so now that he’s dead.”

  “He already has.”

  How could so brief a silence last an eternity? A lifetime in which Erica’s unblinking stare seared into his eyes, grabbed his balls, and yanked them to his throat. At least they had good company. His heart had been lodged there since the moment he’d first met her. With those three words, Mike wondered if she was ready to crush body parts along with his hopes. So much for not fucking things up.

  “And you don’t arbitrarily get to decide that, Mike. This is my life. My choice. I asked you for space and distance to get my head on straight, and you respond by backing me into the corner.”

  The woman was hell on wheels, controlled fury, passion fired. His dick started to fill again. Clearly it had no idea how precarious a predicament it was in right now. Or rather, it didn’t care. The thing always had a mind of its own. And apparently a death wish.

  “Technically, it’s the wall. And you aren’t really backed into it. You can slip away any time you want.” His mouth wasn’t much smarter than the rest of him. “Now this”—he dragged her against him and pressed her to the wall—“this is backed.”

  “And this”—her knee shifted to his groin—“is a precarious predicament for you.”

  “Really? You’d do that?” He cocked his head and frowned.

  “It’s for your own good. Why can’t you see that?”

  She wiggled a bit, adjusting her stance. It gave Mike the opportunity to slip his knee between hers. Her heat wrapped around his thigh and put his erection on full notice. Apparently she wasn’t as disinterested as she pretended.

  “So what are the rules and boundaries? I don’t want to presume or make any missteps.”

  She huffed out a beleaguered sigh.

  “Ah, I recognize the Sigh of Doom when I hear it. We kids heard it a lot from our mom.”

  “Mike—”

  “I’ve waited a long time to have you. I sure as hell don’t want to screw things
up now. What lines should I not cross? For instance…” He drew her hair away from her neck. “Can I do this?” He nipped a line down the curve of her neck, loving that small gasp she made.

  “Or this?” He palmed her breast, rolling the nipple to a peak hard enough to wear through her bra.

  On another gasp, she pressed into his hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  “Maybe this will help clarify.” He slid his hand to her crotch.

  She moaned softly. Her thighs locked his hand in place. When that failed to stop his plundering fingers, she clamped her hand around his wrist. “Stop trying to distract me with sex.”

  “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to break the rules.” He jerked his hands away and took a giant step back.

  “Stop being an ass.” She smacked his chest. “You’re making a joke out of something that’s really important to me.”

  “You hurt my feelings.”

  “Your feelings or your pride?” she shot back. “So rather than talk about it, you decide to hurt mine back by not listening?”

  Mike’s turn to sigh. He slipped his arms around her and hugged her close but loose. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You say ‘rules and boundaries.’ I hear ‘you’re not good enough for me.’”

  She wedged her palms between them. “It’s not about you. It’s about me.”

  “I can’t give you what you want, Erica. I can’t set you apart from me. Not now. Not ever. I made the mistake of letting you go once before. I won’t do it again.” He watched her throat as she took a hard swallow.

  “I wasn’t yours to begin with. You said it already. There is no us.”

  Another fuckup. He was racking them up today.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said.

  Mike stared down his nose at her smug expression. “As much as you shutting me out.”

  “Point made.” She pushed gently against his chest.

  Mike reluctantly let her go.

  “So where do we stand, Mike?” She raised her palm. “United, I get it.”