“I don't know what happened in there but—" He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before a coughing fit took over. More bile rose in his throat making it feel like chunks of burned wood were stuck.
With his eyes closed, he dropped his head back on the pillow as a pounding headache wound down on his head. He pulled on the oxygen mask and took another deep breath. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. Was it?”
He wanted to know, needed to know the truth. Had this woman tried to kill herself?
He hated it when people lied. That’s what he’d been raised on. Now that he was an adult, he had zero tolerance for it. Especially from a woman who he’d just put his ass on the line to save.
Why did he care? His job was to get her out alive. If she needed some kind of psychological help, hopefully, the investigators would see to that when they questioned her.
When he opened his eyes, she was gone.
He searched the driveway as he asked, “Sally, where’s the woman who was just here?”
There was concern, and a tinge of motherly love in Sally Parker’s eyes. He had known her since he’d been a young boy. She’d taken him in on too many nights when his Dad was too drunk to care where he was.
Sally shrugged, and Cy felt a quick prick of an I.V. needle as it slid under the skin of his arm. “Looks like she’s refusing treatment. It’s been a crazy night,” she said. “I was over at the Mill Street fire when I got the call you’d gone down. Couldn’t see my boy hurt, ya big dummy. Came as soon as I could get away.” Sally smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about that now, let’s take a look at those burns on your neck.”
She pulled Cy to a sitting position. He moaned and pressed a clenched fist to his temple.
“Well then,” she continued, “looks like you hit your head pretty good when you went down on the floor. Got yourself a goose egg there? Headache?”
Cy’s opened his eyes to slits and then closed them.
“Good. Serves you right. West told me a little about what happened. Why’d you go against your captain’s orders? Malcolm West’s a good man, and he couldn’t love you any more than if you were his own flesh and blood.”
“I know that…Ow!” Cy protested as Sally pushed against the growing lump on the back of his head.
“Then why’d you do it?”
“The woman would have died.”
“You almost died alongside her.”
Cy’s gaze met hers, but he didn’t speak.
“Well, I’ve been around enough firemen for the last twenty years. I know how it is. But when you go to the firehouse in a few days and talk with West, I’d hate to be you.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’m going to catch holy hell.”
Sally snorted. “Facing West is going to be more of a fiery mess than that house over there.” She opened the buckle on the front of Cy’s coat and then pushed it down to expose his neck. “You were pretty damn lucky. You almost singed that brown hair right off your head.”
Sally wiped an alcohol prep pad roughly across his skin. Intense pain shot through him.
“Could you take it a little easier?” Cy tipped his head back, gritted his teeth, and sucked in a breath.
“Buck up. You got yourself into this condition, now let me do my job.”
“I’m just asking if you could do it a little more…gently?” A hiss escaped his lips as she aggressively wiped at the burns. He raised the oxygen to his nose, breathing deeply, fighting off nausea. “The woman from the fire? Did you check her out?”
“I did.” Sally pushed and prodded, paying close attention to the skin on his neck.
“Was she—okay? I mean, did the smoke get to her?”
“No.” Sally stopped fussing and a strange look crossed her face. “I was pretty worried about you at the time, but I did check her out and no smoke got in her. It was weird—she didn’t even smell like smoke. Her breathing was clear, and all her vitals were good. It was like she’d never even been in that mess over there. Can you explain that?”
Cy shook his head. “No. I can’t.”
“If you think she started the fire it won’t be your job, it’ll be the fire investigators. Could it have been a suicide attempt?”
“No,” he stated, but then thought what the woman had said and shook his head. “I don’t know.” The fire looked suspicious, but there was something in his gut that told him she hadn’t been responsible. There were too many unanswered questions. “Something happened in there…” Cy started to speak, but let his words trail off.
“Like what?”
“Never mind, I can’t think right now.” His head hammered and his lungs ached. What he saw in there sounded crazy even to his ears, much less someone else’s.
The first rays of light streaked across the clear sky turning it a deep pink. “Well, I guess I've lived to see another day.”
“Barely. I’m taking you to the hospital for observation.”
“Ah, come on, Sal. Can’t I just go home and sleep it off?”
She shot him a crooked smile. “We’re not talking about a kegger from your friends at Central U. We’re talking about a concussion, smoke inhalation, a severely sprained ankle…”
He’d forgotten about having to yank his ankle free. Wiggling it, he winced. Okay, that hurt too.
“And burns up that handsome neck of yours,” she added.
“Fine. No more talking. It makes my head hurt.”
He felt the press of lips on his forehead, and a gentle hand sweep away the sweaty hair that was stuck there.
“You still love me, Sal?” Cy cracked one eye open and shot her what he hoped was a dazzling grin.
“No. Never have.”
That was something he knew was a lie. He’d been lied to a lot in his life, but he knew the people who truly cared about him, and Sally Parker was one of them. “I don’t love you either.”
“Now that we have that cleared up.” She sniffed back emotions and rubbed a hand across her nose. “I’m going to give you something to help with the pain. If you’re lucky, you’ll wake up…tomorrow sometime.”
The medicine took hold of his battered body and his world faded.
“Sleep now, my pain-in-the-butt Prince Charming.”
****
He stood off to the side of the road and watched the house burn. The glowing embers swirled up into the night sky as he fought not to smile.
He almost got him this time. The hatred inside burned as bright as the fire.
He watched Sally Parker dress Brennon’s wounds as a shiver of excitement ran through him. Maybe it was better that he didn’t die quickly. Brennon’s family needed to suffer like his dad had.
The old woman from next door stood next to him in a housecoat and cowboy boots. “I’m the one who called 911,” she said in a faint, Southern drawl. “God knows, around this neighborhood I would be the only one who would call in something like this! Nobody cares like I do.”
Barely glancing at her, uninterested, he returned his gaze to Brennon.
“If you ask me, there’s something not right about that girl.” The old woman spoke on, her voice raspy and high-pitched from age and too many cigarettes. “It’d serve her right if she was dead. The world’s got enough weirdoes.” The woman coughed deeply and clicked her false teeth back into her mouth.
See, others felt the same as he did. The woman in the house would have just been a casualty. He’d waited so many years. This time was a trial run, the next time it would be personal.
Chapter 3
Cy’s dreams were strange and surreal like a Salvador Dali painting, with white birds and things melting—like him. But in the middle, there was always the woman from the fire, on the bed, her arms outstretched, beckoning him to come into her embrace.
Her protection.
The fire roared around her but didn’t touch her skin. Her hair flowed out in long, silky streams, waving seductively around her head. She was stunning, as her dark skin glow
ed golden against her ebony hair.
A smile broke across her face but the sadness in her eyes threatened to overtake her. It was the pain that came from inside you when you couldn’t shake something from your past. He knew.
Why her? Why this dream? Why now?
He didn’t have time to worry about some nut job who tried to burn her house down. After his own screwed-up childhood, he had just started to piece his own life back together.
In his dream, she was backlit by the glow of the fire and naked. He remembered his blood heat as his gaze fell over her. Dark nipples, the color of fine merlot, jutted upwards and silky curls lay in the vee between her legs causing his mouth to go dry from want.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His stomach clenched with the thought, as he felt himself twitch and grow hard to the point of pain.
She reached out and caressed his palm which shot electricity through his hand. The fire roared and she reached out again, but this time their fingers didn’t quite touch. As seconds passed, she seemed farther and farther away.
There were only flames now, as he desperately tried to reach her. There was no pain, but his skin blistered and peeled away to black. Flames engulfed his lower body as he gasped, unable to breathe.
****
Cy woke with a scream lodged in his throat. His gaze darted frantically around the room.
Where the hell was he? He fought to remember.
A young woman stood over him in purple pants and a brightly flowered smock.
But not the woman he wanted from his dreams.
“Are you all right? Are you in pain?” the nurse asked concerned.
It was all coming back now. He was in the hospital.
“Do I need to call the doctor?” she asked, reaching for the button on the bed.
Cy shook his head and relaxed back on the pillow. “What day is it?”
“Sunday. Why?”
“Damn.” Sally had been right. He’d lost a whole day and had the dreams to prove it. The same dream of the woman from the fire that kept coming back, over and over. He shifted his legs under the covers and rolled to his side, embarrassed by the stiffness of his erection.
“All of your family’s been asking about you,” the nurse said brightly.
Cy cocked an eyebrow in question.
“Your firemen family,” she said, checking the monitors around his bed. “They’ve been here all night. Mario went out to get some coffee, but he didn’t want you to wake up and be alone.”
Cy smiled and nodded, just as Mario came banging loudly through the door. “Hey, Prince Charming. You’re awake.”
“You’re the second person to call me that.”
“Yeah? Go figure.” Mario smiled a big, dopey grin and smacked his lips in a fake kiss toward him. “You’ll always be my Prince Charming, lover boy.”
“Should I leave you two alone?” the nurse asked and laughed.
“Or you could join us?” Mario wiggled thick, Italian eyebrows in a move that would have made Groucho Marx proud.
“All talk, no action.” She knew both the men well, or she wouldn’t have put up with Mario’s comments. “Cy? You didn’t tell me how you’re feeling?”
“I’m trying to decide what to start with. But there are lots of parts tied for top spot in the hurt department.”
“Do you need something for the pain?”
“Naw. No more happy drugs.” Cy didn’t like taking anything he didn’t have to. “Water maybe?”
“Water I can do. Are you hungry?”
“Say yes,” Mario piped in and rubbed a hand over his stomach. “Even if you’re not, I’ll eat it.”
Cy let his mind trail back to the woman from the fire. As soon as they released him, he’d find her. He needed questions answered.
****
The fire played out again in Mia’s mind. She’d gone to work, listened to a co-worker’s talk about her boyfriend problems, and then went home. She fell asleep, exhausted.
How had the fire started?
The energy inside of her was strong, but a fire this large? She’d been asleep with no control whatsoever over it.
When she woke up, there was a fireman who told her that everything would be all right. When he’d held her in his arms for that brief moment, he’d made her believe it. It was stupid to let him convince her.
Mia could still smell the smoke on his coat and feel the roughness on his bristled cheek as she’d pulled against him. His body was warm and strong.
It had been years since she’d let anyone touch her. It was so long, she couldn’t remember the last time. Her mother? Could she remember a hug or a gentle caress on the cheek? Mia breathed in, holding the memory of his touch through the steam of the hot water running over her hands.
The energy that grew inside her when others were feeling strong emotions was harder to keep inside. As she grew older the power grew stronger.
The blue sphere of light? Was it there to help or hurt? The fireman entered the sphere and hadn’t been injured, but he could have, he was when she let go of him. Mia remembered the flames which licked up around him as he gasped for breath.
He thought things would be all right? He didn’t know what a stupid notion that was. He didn’t know anything about her, or the hell her life had been since the first time the energy had escaped from her fifteen years ago. Now that thing inside her had broken free again and destroyed the only thing she cared about, her house. And just when she thought she might have some control over it.
Thank God she’d moved out of her last apartment and into a house. She could have killed someone if her apartment burned. She could never live with herself if that happened. That's what she should be thinking about, what a freak she was. But all she could think about was the fireman’s deep, blue eyes which were filled with compassion and concern.
“Hey.”
The spoon Mia held clattered against the metal of the sink jolting her back to reality.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Mickey, the owner of the pizza parlor stood behind her. “There’s this guy Cy out front asking about you. Do you know him?”
“No. Cy who?” She felt her pulse kick up a notch as she lied.
“He’s a fireman from the local engine house. I’ve talked about him before. Do you remember? It’s the same house my brother Mario’s in.”
She knew who Cy was. This town was too small not to know most of the people who lived there, even if they didn’t know her.
“Well, he’s out front. He said he’s been trying to find you, and talk with you.”
“Why would he want to talk to me? I’ve already talked with the investigators.”
“I know you did, honey.” He looked surprised by her emotional outburst. “He’s not an investigator, he’s a fireman. Not the same group. Was he one of the firemen at your house that night?”
“What’s with the questions?” She wiped her hands dry on a clean towel, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“He probably wants to check up on you. They’re like that. Firemen want to see with their own two eyes that you came out safely.”
“But I don’t want to talk to him!” Mia barked. “I’m off work now, and I’m really tired. I’m going downstairs to bed.” She felt like a trapped animal.
“He’s a good guy, I’m sure—”
“Then you talk to him.” She cut him off as she hurried toward the door leading to the basement.
Mia stopped and turned before she got to the stairs. Mickey had flipped the light switch off and gone back out to the restaurant putting the kitchen in darkness. Slowly, she walked toward the low voices and peered around the corner.
Mia’s heart tapped in her chest when she saw Cy again. The darkness of the kitchen felt like a safe haven, so she allowed her eyes to take him in.
He was handsome, tall, and strong. He wore a weathered Central Washington University T-shirt and faded jeans, which curved to fit his body. Large arms were crossed over his b
road chest as he laughed deeply at something Mickey’d just said. She wondered if he got his muscles doing something outdoorsy like kayaking or hiking, and not from a gym. Rich brown hair fell just below his ears and pulled back in tight curls from a strong, classically drawn Nordic face.
But it was his eyes she remembered from the night of the fire. They were a dark, calming blue, like the sea. He winced as he shifted his weight off his leg and propped his hip against one of the booths. It was the leg he’d injured in the fire—because of her.
She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could be anywhere but there. Wishing she was anyone, but who she was. But she wasn’t Dorothy, and there were no glittery red shoes to transport her to Oz. Mia wished for a pair of those shoes when she was younger and in foster care. But nothing like that would ever happen in real life, no magic potion, no magic shoes…no Prince Charming.
Mia hoped after she’d snapped at Mickey, he would tell Cy to leave.
She didn’t want to have to move. She liked this town and hoped to have the chance to stay a little longer than the other places. But as usual, it wasn’t looking good. Now that a fire had happened, the questions and inquiries would start.
Her gaze trailed over Cy’s body. She sighed and tried to remember the feel of his warm skin pressed against hers. His chest moved under the T-shirt and bands of muscles ran up his arms as he shifted his weight.
She wanted to step out of the dark and talk to him. But guilt flooded her like a toxic tide and she stepped back into the shadows. Why would he want to talk to her? Freak girl. Other than to ask her things she couldn’t answer.
She turned and headed toward the back stairs.
****
It was under-lit and gray down in the basement, but at least there was running water. Mia swished the toothbrush in a plastic cup then spit the remains of the toothpaste in the sink.
As she studied her reflection, she pressed at the dark circles under her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She was only twenty-four, but right now she felt like she was a hundred. She hadn’t slept through a complete night since the fire, and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll.
Fighting the Fire Page 2
