Tasting Fire

by Kelsey Browning

  “I’m sorry,” Grif said. “But I’ve gotta go. I’ll text Reid and—”

  “No!” God, no. At least Grif’s testosterone was urbane. Reid Steele was completely uncivilized. His high-frequency personality would decimate her ability to think rationally. “I’ll call Cash and let him know you had an emergency. I promise I won’t leave this apartment until he shows up at 7:03 in the morning.”

  Grif unlocked and yanked open the door. “Secure this behind me. Now.”

  “Call me later and let me know how Stella Grace is.”

  He nodded and was gone.

  Emmy let the silence surround and soothe her for a few seconds before she got up and shot all the locks.

  * * *

  As soon as Grif left, Emmy could actually concentrate on the lab report for Jesse Giddings. Although nothing had jumped out at her when she’d scanned it earlier, something subtle could be here.

  No alcohol.

  No illegals.

  No Benzos like Xanax or Ativan.

  A little doxylamine, probably taken for spring allergies.

  Metabolites of the paralytic that would’ve been used during surgery.

  Fentanyl, an opioid painkiller.

  Opioids could certainly be deadly, but Jesse’s levels were in the normal range for post-op pain management.

  Dammit. Maybe she was seeing a boogeyman where there was none.

  Or maybe she just needed to sleep on it and look with fresh eyes in the morning.

  But before she could slip on her TMNT jammies, a knock came at her door, making her heart jolt. Had Grif forgotten to lock up the building in his hurry to get to the hospital?

  There was no peephole in the apartment door.

  She could call Cash, but she didn’t really want to alarm him. Should she—

  “Emmy, it’s Mom. Open up, please. I have an armload of food.”

  Oh, thank all the stars in the sky and the sweet baby Jesus.

  When she opened the door, she was surprised to find not only her mom, but also Kris and a third woman.

  “Riley!” During the training exercise at Reid’s bunkhouse, Emmy hadn’t had a chance to acknowledge, much less chitchat with, Cash’s baby sister. She was nothing like the twelve-year-old Emmy remembered. With her glossy sable hair, fashionable glasses, and a no-nonsense outfit of fitted cargo pants and a Save the Red Wolves T-shirt, Riley looked every inch the ethnobotany prodigy. “Oh my God, come in! How did you get inside the building? Was it unlocked?”

  “Grif Steele dropped a key off with me,” her mom said as she placed bags of food on the small countertop. “Told me you wanted some company.”

  That man…

  But Emmy was delighted to see them all, so she threw her arms around Riley. “I’m so glad you came along.”

  “Wow,” Kris commented, shooting a raised brow look at Emmy’s mom. “Does someone have to go to Costa Rica and back to get that type of greeting?”

  A thread of guilt wound through Emmy. As busy as work, Cash, and the not-so-random incidents had kept her, she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with Kris or her mom.

  Although her mom was in her mid-fifties, with her long light brown hair, barely lined skin, and easy smile, she looked about thirty-five. Jennifer McKay loved her work as a preschool teacher, and it showed in everything from her finger-painted T-shirt to her denim skirt and Chaco sandals.

  Emmy gave her mom and Kris enthusiastic and sincere hugs. “I’m sorry I haven’t called lately. I’ve been…”

  Kris lifted her dark eyebrows. “Busy?”

  Emmy flashed a glance at her mom to see if she’d caught Kris’s not-so-subtle innuendo. If she hadn’t, then her reading the quickly scribbled list of Dos and Don’ts that Cash had left in her apartment earlier pretty much clinched it.

  “I’m not going to nag you with questions,” her mom said, brushing strands of hair from Emmy’s eyes and tucking them back into her braid. “But if you want to tell me you’re dating Cash Kingston again, I’m happy to listen.”

  Emmy pulled her mom close again and rested her head on her shoulder. Her mom’s Play-Doh and apple juice scent soothed her. Reminded her of all the times her mom had told her that she didn’t have to be the best at everything. That she loved Emmy just as she was. But somehow, Emmy had never been able to replace her dad’s words about being her serious best with her mom’s heartfelt honesty. “I love you so much, Mom.”

  Her mom squeezed her and sighed. “Dating is one thing, but if you tell me I’m about to be a grandmother, I am going to ask questions. Very direct, very pointed questions.”

  “What?” Emmy yelped and jumped back. “Why would you think…”

  “I could hear tears in your voice, which is very un-Emmy-like. Then there’s the fact that Dolores Trambly spotted you and Cash up on the old water tower.” She shot a pointed look toward an SRFD T-shirt hanging over the back of the couch that Emmy had procured from Cash. “And that.”

  Horrified that Riley was standing there listening to the intimate details of her relationship with Cash, Emmy said, “Mom. Little ears…”

  Riley just laughed and went to the small kitchen to dig for a corkscrew. “I stopped being Baby Riley a long time ago. And I am aware that my older brother has sex on occasion.”

  “It… I… He…”

  Kris hip-bumped Emmy toward the Couch of Sin. “Don’t try to defend or explain. Just sit down and let Riley pour you a glass of wine.”

  Riley reached for the bottle, but instead of opening it, she pinned Emmy with a probing gaze. “I only need to know one thing—are you in it to win him?”

  “Definitely.”

  The smile Riley flashed her was full of relief and pleasure. “Then let’s celebrate!”

  “I didn’t know if you’d had time to do much shopping,” Emmy’s mom said. “So we brought provisions.”

  From a sack that Kris had placed on the counter, her mom withdrew cheddar and caramel popcorn, brownies sprinkled with sea salt, and pickled okra. All Emmy’s favorites.

  She had to laugh. “That does look like something a pregnant chick would eat.”

  Riley passed her a glass of pinot grigio. “And the grapes make it a full meal.”

  “We already rented three movies from Amazon Prime,” Kris informed her. “I just need your laptop to hook into the TV.”

  “In my bedroom.” Too late, Emmy realized the state of her bed. She and Cash hadn’t been too concerned about making it up since the first time he slept in it. Maybe Kris wouldn’t mention—

  “I’ll say one thing for Cash Kingston,” Kris said cheerfully as she returned with Emmy’s computer, “he smells like a bottle of pure sex. Em, if I were you, I wouldn’t ever wash those sheets.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Cash and I are sleeping together. Sorry that we’re having this convo in front of you, Riley. But my mom and sister obviously have no boundaries.”

  Riley chuckled and plopped down beside Emmy on the couch. “You know my family. It’s not as if we’re entirely appropriate. Maggie’s up in everyone’s business. Cash knows all kinds of dirty little secrets from being inside people’s houses. For some reason, people confide in my dad like he’s Papa Freud or something. And if my mom were here, she’d probably want to tell you about the physics of different sexual positions.”

  “She’s always welcome as long as she doesn’t bring any more of that eggplant bread.” Emmy groaned.

  “So you were the unlucky beneficiary on that one. We all wondered what became of it.”

  “Cash was brave and choked down a little. I avoided eating any because I’ve seen bowel obstructions up close.”

  “Gross,” Kris said as she plugged in the computer and did some magic with the remote that brought her Amazon account up on the TV screen. “How about we start with an oldie but goodie?”

  Suddenly, Emmy’s wall flashed with the image of Channing Tatum in a thong. Well, if they hadn’t already been doing intergenerational female bonding before, they would all be be
sties after two hours of Magic Mike.

  “I’m guessing movie number two is XXL.”

  “You know it!” Kris said and hit the lights.

  They all sat there sipping and staring until Channing Tatum whipped off his pants in the famous “Pony” dance. “When did men start doing all that grooming?” Emmy’s mom asked. “I like a little chest hair.”

  Kris snorted. “You’re looking at his chest?”

  “Well…”

  “It’s called manscaping,” Kris said. “If we have to ’scape, then they should have to ’scape. Chest and other places.”

  “Do you really think they stuff those thongs with socks?” Riley asked, her tone curious and possibly a little wistful. “Because surely no guy is that…blessed.”

  Emmy just kept her mouth shut and gulped her wine, because no way in hell was she about to tell Cash’s sister that he was more blessed than a pair of winter-weight hiking socks.

  23

  Per usual, the fire tone sounded about six seconds after Cash sank into a blissful snooze. But years of training had him popping straight out of sleep.

  Over the radio, dispatch said, “Structure fire reported at 702 Main Street. Dispatch Engine Two.”

  If there had been a wisp of fog left in Cash’s brain, it was gone now. That was the Murchison building. He thundered out of his room and yelled, “Let’s go!”

  In the bay, for the first time ever, he almost lost his balance while stepping into his turn-out pants and Donaldson grabbed him just in time to keep him from going headfirst into the side of the engine.

  “Dude, catch a breath.”

  “The ladder truck and other engine are out on another station’s call. And the fucking Murchison building is on fire,” Cash shouted right in his face. “Get a fucking move on.”

  He, Jackson, and Donaldson all swung into the engine with Cash riding shotgun and stabbing at the call button on his phone.

  Pick up, Em. Pick the fuck up.

  Donaldson reported back to dispatch, “Engine Two en route to structure fire at 702 Main. Dispatch, do you have secondary?”

  “Engine One and Ladder are en route. ETA ten minutes.”

  The ride was fast and wild, especially with Jackson driving the engine like it was one big red locomotive motherfucker. But when they stopped in the middle of Main Street, Cash could clearly see more than smoke. Flames were flickering behind the downstairs windows.

  Ten minutes was too long. They couldn’t wait that long to make entry.

  “Emmy McKay is inside.” Why had he let her stay there by herself? Shit, he hadn’t. He’d asked his cousin… “And maybe Grif Steele.”

  Jackson shot him a speculative look.

  “Not like that, asshole,” he snarled. “We need to get in there. Let’s use a ladder up front and then Donaldson and I will hit the fire escape on the back side of the building.” Because that’s where Emmy’s bedroom was.

  “Can’t,” Jackson shot back. “Two people in. Two people out.”

  Fuck that. Cash’s phone rang and showed Grif’s number. He answered and said, “I can’t talk right now. Your building’s on fire.”

  “I know. Why the hell do you think I’m calling you?” Cash could hear clothes rustling on the other end. “Tell me you already have people inside putting it out. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Grif’s multi-fucks were full of self-recrimination.

  “Why are you saying that?”

  “I installed new locks and ballistic glass.”

  “On both floors?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to put anyone at risk again.”

  That would make sense if this were a brick-thrown or bullet-shot scenario. But when it came to fire, true ballistic glass was going to cost Cash and the other firefighters precious time.

  He looked up at the roof of the two-story building. “Have you replaced the roof yet?”

  “No,” Grif said, and Cash heard the rumble of a sleek car engine starting up. “I figured it would go tits-up this summer, and I’d deal with it then.”

  “Thank Jesus.” He hung up on his cousin and shouted, “Get up there and start working on a second-story window. It’s gonna take some time because that shit is ballistic.”

  “Fuck,” Jackson said.

  Cash turned to Donaldson. “We need a way onto the roof. We’re not getting through the windows that Grif put in. Let’s hit the fire escape around back.” Except when Cash and Donaldson popped out in the alleyway behind the building, the ladder was missing and the fire escape looked about ready to come loose and kill anyone unlucky enough to be standing beneath it. “It’s a fucking goner.” Cash considered the building next door. “If we can get in there and up on that roof, I can jump across and—”

  “Kingston, are you crazy?” Jackson protested.

  No, he was desperate, and the gap between buildings wasn’t that wide.

  “I’m coming with you,” Donaldson said.

  Cash didn’t waste a second to confirm he was following. He just strode over to the building next door and pulled the ladder on its fire escape. He and Donaldson pounded up the rickety rungs and onto the gravel-strewn roof. Cash backed up to the far side and took a deep breath that did nothing to calm his heart. Stupid thing had turned into some kind of deadly ninja in his chest.

  Then he ran the length of the roof. At the edge, he gave it everything inside him, jumping up and out, free falling for a heartbeat and a half. The Murchison rooftop seemed to come up and meet him with a violent impact as he landed with bent knees.

  Donaldson made it across and pitched forward onto his palms.

  “You okay?” Cash asked into his radio mic.

  “Nothing broken.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  They hacked their way through the roof and lowered themselves into a sort of attic crawl space over what should be Emmy’s bedroom. Cash used his ax to cut a hole in the ceiling. But when he pulled back a piece of drywall and spotted Emmy’s bed, it was an empty tangle of sheets.

  Fuck. Where was she?

  He finished cutting through the ceiling and the drywall hit Emmy’s bed in a cloud of dust. Then he dropped down with a bounce that broke the board in half. He moved to make room for Donaldson.

  Inside the bedroom, thick smoke filled the space. Even through his mask, Cash thought he could taste the acrid flavor. He shined his light in all the corners, but no Emmy.

  Maybe she wasn’t even here. Maybe she’d gone to her mom’s… Or maybe she was lying dead on the floor by her front door. Maybe she’d tried to escape and…

  Shut that shit up.

  “We need to move on and check the living room,” he told Donaldson. The smoke was thicker there with flames licking around the jamb of the one exit from the apartment.

  “Over here,” Donaldson yelled into his radio mic.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Two women were sprawled unconscious on the couch and one more was on the floor. Kris, Emmy’s mom, and… Riley?

  What was his baby sister doing here, and why was Emmy’s house filled with women?

  Doesn’t matter. Just get them out and find Emmy.

  “We’re missing one,” he told Donaldson calmly even though his stomach was turning inside out.

  “We need to get these three out pronto.”

  With clumsy movements that made sweat run down his body like the Nantahala River during spring release, Cash waved his arms to stop Jackson’s assault on the living room window and wrestled it open. He spoke into his mic to his lieutenant. “LT, we have three unconscious up here and one unaccounted for. ETA on the ladder truck?”

  “ETA now,” his LT said. And sure enough, the ladder truck pulled up and maneuvered into place. The job was made harder because people were starting to congregate on Main Street, staring up at what had to look like the mouth of hell from the outside.

  It felt like the mouth of hell from the inside.

  “We need to get them out,” he told Donaldson in a voice that didn’t hint at the panic fill
ing his gut. “Grab her”—he pointed to Emmy’s mom—“and get the fuck out of here.” Although not by much, Jennifer McKay was probably the heaviest.

  One by one, Cash dragged Kris and Riley toward the open window. “Wake up,” he chanted at them. But being the stubborn women they were, neither of them listened.

  Donaldson reappeared at the outside of the window, and Cash passed him Kris.

  “Riley,” he tapped his sister’s face and shouted at her, “wake up!”

  For once in her life, she listened. Her eyes were slow and heavy, but they opened. “What—”

  He hauled her to her feet like she was a life-sized doll. “Where is Emmy?”

  “Uh…uh… She was here. We were watching strippers and… The bathroom! She went to the bathroom.”

  “Hang your head out the window,” he told his sister. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  Cash rushed into the bathroom and tight relief threaded through him. Emmy was there. He quickly checked her pulse. She was unconscious, but alive.

  He’d bet a million dollars this wasn’t a random fire.

  With careful movements, he hunkered down and scooped Emmy over his right shoulder where she hung like a fish on a trotline. “C’mon, Em. Stay with me.”

  He strode back into the living room to find Riley passed out again over the window jamb. The air was becoming more noxious by the second. Exactly how he did it, he didn’t know, but somehow he maneuvered his sister onto his other shoulder and steadied himself. Felt like he was deadlifting six hundred fifty pounds.

  And at some point, that would be funny. But not tonight.

  Thank Jesus these old building windows were wide.

  Cash placed one leg over the sill and onto the ladder. Careful not to knock Riley’s head against the window frame, he contorted one side of his body outside.

  Then came the tricky balance issue. While he was easing the rest of his body through the window, he leaned against the side of the ladder, trying like hell not to smash his baby sister.

  Of course, Riley was the Kingston Menace, and she came to again just as he was executing the dicey extraction.

  “Oh, God! Cash…” She flailed on his shoulder, throwing off his center of gravity and making him stumble.