Five Alarm Christmas: A Firefighter Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  “That’s why I do it too,” I said. “But sometimes it can be nice to get a reminder of what’s at stake. Especially on the bad days. You should try it sometime.”

  “Maybe,” he said, though I could tell he had his doubts.

  My phone buzzed. A reply from Cynthia.

  “Too late,” I said. “She said she doesn’t have time to bake it before her in-laws arrive tomorrow night.”

  “Why don’t you bake it for her?” Sparks said. “Then hand deliver it.”

  My eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea! I’m totally going to do that tomorrow morning. I should have enough time before lunch.”

  “What’s at lunch?”

  “Christian is taking me to…” I paused. I wasn’t sure how to talk to the others about this. “He’s taking me to lunch. I think it’s a date.”

  “Oh.” Sparks shrugged. “Well then I don’t feel so bad asking you if you want to salsa tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah? You’d go again?”

  “Fuck yeah I would. I go all the time. It will be nice to go with someone rather than trying to find a good partner.”

  “I like salsa,” Angel said as he joined us.

  “What if I want Amy all to myself?”

  “Let me come too. I promise not to make fun of you,” Angel said. “Well. Okay, I can’t make that promise. I need to see how you dance first.”

  “It can be fun with three,” I told Sparks.

  “Salsa is meant for pairs.”

  I put a hand on his chest. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I kissed him lightly on the lips. A testing kiss. An invitation. I realized I hadn’t kissed him since that night in the salsa club parking lot. I realized I liked kissing him.

  Soon we were making our way to the couch. I pushed Angel ahead of me and removed his pants until he was sitting naked on the edge of the couch. With enthusiastic gusto I started sucking him off, waving my ass in the air at Sparks behind me.

  It didn’t take him long to get the invitation. He grabbed my hips and ground against me, pushing his cock against my thigh. It felt as good as it had that night in the back of his jeep, especially while I had my lips wrapped around Angel. He grabbed himself, guided it up and into my waiting lips, and then slowly entered me from behind.

  I pulled off of Angel and smiled up at him. “I want to drive the engine.”

  “Oh, you’re driving my engine alright.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” I said, moaning as Sparks thrust hard from behind. “I want to take turns driving the fire engine. I drove it at my last station, and I miss it.”

  “I’m the driver tech…” he said, trailing off as I licked my tongue at the base right where it met his balls.

  “That’s too bad, then,” I said, letting go.

  He lasted about three more seconds before saying, “Okay, deal! You can drive the truck!”

  I grinned and returned to sucking him off.

  There was something so incredible about being fucked by two men at the same time. I’d always been curious about threesomes, the way anyone is curious about something new and exciting in the bedroom. But since trying it with Angel and Christian it was my new favorite thing. I don’t know how I’d ever gone without trying it before.

  It was so foreign. So slutty. But there was no one to judge us as we moaned, and sucked, and came all over each other there in Station 47.

  I showered with Sparks after, grinning like a fool as I shampooed his beard until it was foamy and white. “I still think you ought to shave.”

  “Not happening.”

  “I bet there’s a sexy jaw line underneath all that nonsense.”

  He reached around and gave my ass a playful smack. “You’ll never know.”

  Then we all crashed on the same couch while watching the Miami Heat game, my head in Sparks’s lap while Angel rubbed my back.

  A girl could get used to this.

  32

  Amy

  I woke up early. The grocery store didn’t open for another hour though, so I went for a run, came home and showered, and then went back out. The pie recipe was about as simple as they came: sugar, flour, eggs, butter, and chocolate chips. I was in the check-out line when I decided to go back and get a second pie crust. Might as well take the opportunity to bake one for my boys too.

  My boys. I used to call my old unit mates that, but it took on a different meaning with Christian, Angel, and Sparks than it did with Vazquez, Dominguez, and Rogers. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  The pie was super easy to bake. I melted a stick of butter before adding it to a cup of sugar and half a cup of flour. Then I beat two eggs into the mix, then added a cup of chocolate chips. That gooey mixture got poured into the pie crust and baked for 30 minutes.

  Boom, instant deliciousness.

  I left one pie cooling on the counter and hopped in the car. The drive was short, and I saw with despair that there was still no car in the driveway. But I went to ring the doorbell anyways, and then breathed a sigh of relief when Cynthia opened the door.

  “Amy!” she said in a hushed voice. “What are you—Oh you didn’t!”

  “I did,” I said. “I had some free time, and I was baking one for my fire station anyways, so I figured I’d make an extra for you.”

  “Aren’t you just the sweetest? I just put the baby down, but come in out of the cold. I insist, come on.”

  “Is Ezra not home?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “His hours are still crazy. Working nights. But he should be home soon, and then we’re driving to the airport to pick up his parents.”

  “The house looks stunning. You’ve done a good job in the last week.”

  “I’ve tried!”

  She had a kettle on already, and quickly readied two cups of tea. “How have things been?” she asked as she joined me at the table. “Lots of, umm, fires to put out?”

  “There always are,” I said. “I was moved to a new station that handles peak hours only. 8:00am to 8:00pm every week day.”

  “Oh, that must be tough.”

  “It’s good and bad. We stay busier, which can be better than sitting around at the station all night. I sympathize with your husband’s night shift.”

  She smiled curtly and sipped her tea. “I’m not handling it well. It’s selfish, but every time he leaves for work I get so scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “What if it happens again?” she said. “A fire. What if I’m asleep and can’t save my daughter?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I said. “What happened last time was a fluke.”

  “It’s just that I don’t even trust myself anymore. I was completely passed out from the NyQuil. I don’t even remember turning the stove on. What kind of mother starts a grease fire in her own home?”

  “A lot, actually,” I said with a chuckle. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Everyone.”

  “It doesn’t make it any easier to sleep at night,” she said.

  “You could always get a dog,” I said, looking for a way to help her. “They make a great first warning system. You’d be shocked how many people first discover a fire due to a pet before smoke detectors ever go off.”

  “I wish. Ezra hates dogs. The sound of a dog barking or whining is like nails on a chalkboard for him.”

  I frowned. “Oh?”

  “I’m a dog person, so that was a sacrifice I made when we got married. But it has made making friends with the neighborhood difficult. I told Ezra that dogs bark, that’s going to happen in any neighborhood no matter where we move, but the old couple a few houses down have a lab that barks whenever it sees a squirrel, which is every 10 minutes…”

  Huh. I wondered if that was the couple with the shed fire. They had a yellow lab. And they also mentioned…

  “Has Ezra spoken to them about it?” I asked.

  “Spoken isn’t the word. He’s argued with them. I went over a day later to try to make amends but they didn’t want to tal
k to me. But that was over a week ago, and it got better once their shed caught fire. I think they keep their dog inside now.”

  My mind raced. That was one hell of a coincidence. I thought back to the other fires in this neighborhood. One of the families had a little boy holding a Chihuahua. Those things were yappier than most.

  “Your husband’s job,” I asked. “What does it entail?”

  “It’s a company called Marketing Resources. They’re a call center, which essentially means they do telemarketing. Yeah, yeah, I know, he’s one of those people who spam calls people about their car warranty or home insurance or free tropical vacations. Lately they’ve had him working the night shift to call people in other timezones, but how many people in the Hawaii timezone need a tropical vacation? You know?”

  The first call we received at Station 47 was a call center. First the false alarm, then the real thing the next day. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “I have to go,” I said, rising. “Thank you for the tea.”

  “Psh, thank you for the pie! Hope it competes with their fancy pies tonight.”

  She led me to the front door and we hugged again. When she opened the door a man was walking up the driveway.

  “Oh, there he is now!”

  He froze when he saw me standing in the doorway. First he was surprised, then a deep frown invaded his sharp face.

  “Ezra! This is Amy Pederson. She’s the firefighter who rescued us from our home.”

  I extended my hand. Ezra stared at it with fear on his face. Pure, unrestrained fear.

  The fear of someone who had just been caught.

  “She brought me a pie,” Cynthia said. “Since I didn’t have time to bake one myself! Isn’t that sweet?”

  Relief washed over Ezra’s face. He put on a smile and finally shook my hand. “Mom will be so happy! She was disappointed you didn’t bake one last year…” Ezra gestured. “Do you want to stay for tea? We don’t have to leave for the airport for a little bit…”

  “I actually have to go,” I said. “But it was great to see you!”

  “You too.” He wrapped me in a hug with his long, gangly arms. “I owe you. For everything.”

  “Just doing my job,” I said.

  They watched me get into my car and drive away, waving happily from their porch.

  33

  Amy

  The Carter’s home. The call center, twice. The other fires in their new neighborhood.

  It couldn’t be one giant coincidence. I didn’t believe in coincidences. And there were too many data points.

  I raced back to my apartment like I was responding to a fire, pulled my laptop out, and started doing research.

  Before I got much done, my phone rang. It was Christian.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

  “You sound like you’re in a rush,” he said.

  “I sort of am, yeah. You okay?”

  There was a pause. “Well, we were supposed to meet 10 minutes ago…”

  “Who’s we?” I asked, then groaned. “Oh fuck! I totally forgot about our lunch date.” I felt really stupid for forgetting: I was even wearing the cute outfit I’d planned for lunch.

  “It’s okay. They’re holding our table if you can get here soon.”

  “Christian, I am so sorry but I have to cancel. Work stuff.”

  “Work stuff? We’re off until Monday.”

  “Yeah, I know, it’s just…”

  I hesitated. There was a common trope among firefighters to always assume there was a serial arsonist responsible for all the cases in an area. Most rookies got that notion into their head at one point or another, and veteran firefighters liked to make fun of them when they did. I didn’t want to tell Christian about what I’d found until I had more evidence. Something compelling.

  “I’ve got a hunch on something. I won’t be able to focus until I chase it down.”

  “Sounds exciting. What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Over a drink or four.”

  “How about over dinner tonight?”

  I winced. “I already promised to get dinner with Sparks and Angel before going salsa dancing.”

  “Wow, busy day, huh? Sounds like my lunch date was just your warm-up.”

  “Is that jealousy I detect?”

  “Only a little. In a teasing way. How about dinner tomorrow?”

  “Unless you want to go salsa dancing with us tonight.”

  “That’s a strong pass from me. If you saw me try to dance you’d never look at me the same again.”

  “Dinner it is, then.”

  I felt bad for canceling plans, but I could explain later. If I was right, he would understand. And if I was wrong then I would take the hit and let him make fun of me for being naive.

  First I accessed the local fire station database to look up the other residential fires in the Hialeah neighborhood where the Carters lived. I called the old couple with the shed fire first.

  “They just moved in,” the man said. “Two houses down…”

  “Three!” I heard his wife yell in the background.

  “However many houses down. Young man, combed hair and black glasses like Superman.”

  “Clark Kent!” the wife yelled. “Superman doesn’t wear glasses.”

  “Will you shut up!”

  That matched up with Ezra Clark. It didn’t mean he started their shed fire, but he was the one they suspected.

  Next I looked up the call center fire. Sure enough, the company Marketing Resources was leasing the building. I called the number on Google Maps, which redirected to a different building. After going through one of those automated numbering systems (“For hours and locations, press three. To speak with a support representative, press four…”) I was connected to an HR person working at their headquarters in Orlando. They were able to confirm that an Ezra Carter worked for the company, but when I asked if he was working at the specific location on the date of the fires they stopped answering questions and referred me to their legal department.

  Annoyed, I went back and reviewed the data on the original fire at the Carter house. The point of origin was confirmed to be a pan of oil left unattended on the stove. Cynthia had confirmed that she cooks with extra virgin olive oil, which has a lower smoking point. At the time, we assumed they used flammable insulation since it had spread so quickly, but the finished report from the insurance company confirmed no such insulation was found. So how did it spread so quickly?

  I tried to remember what she had told me. Ezra had gone to work. She distinctly remembered that. Then she laid down, and the fire started soon after. If Ezra was responsible that meant he left for work, came back, started the fire, left again, then came back again after we had arrived. That seemed like a lot of work.

  Wait a minute. I was ignoring the worst part of all this. If he had started this fire, then he tried to murder his wife and child.

  “Mother fucker,” I said out loud. Now I was angry. I had to catch this piece of shit.

  I wished I could hop in the car and speak to Cynthia right now. I was tempted to text her, but her husband might see those. I didn’t want to tip him off. It probably wouldn’t matter anyways since her memory was fuzzy from the NyQuil she had taken.

  Another memory touched a different memory in my mind, making a new connection I hadn’t thought of before.

  “His commute is downtown,” I mumbled as I looked up the directory to the Callaway Building. It was still up on the internet even though the building was essentially condemned for repairs. The point of origin had been the 12th floor so I navigated to that floor on the map, my eyes scanning across the list of companies…

  Damn. No Marketing Resources listed.

  I started to give up, then on a hunch I opened up the global search bar and typed in the company name. I got one hit: Marketing Resources, 16th Floor.

  “Fucking bingo.”

  *

  I hopped in the car and raced back to my old station. I needed to bo
unce the info off some people, and my old unit mates were the best ones since they’d been at the Carter fire with me.

  Thankfully, Vazquez and Rogers were in the station and not out on a call. They were all smiles until I told them why I was there.

  “What do you remember from that day?” I asked.

  Vazquez crossed his arms. “Wife was on some heavy medicine. Fell asleep. Same thing we see all the time.”

  “I’ve got to side with my esteemed colleague,” Rogers said. “There’s nothing suspicious about that fire.”

  Dominguez ambled into our bunk. “Amy!”

  “The Carter fire,” I said before he could hug me. “The one with the mom and baby who fell asleep.”

  “Two weeks ago?”

  “That’s the one. Was anything suspicious about that fire to you?”

  He bit into an apple that he was carrying. “Well, yeah. The husband.”

  “What about him?”

  “How’d he know to come back? He left for work, then came rushing back in the middle of the fire. We hadn’t even put it out yet, much less started calling family members.”

  “Maybe a neighbor called his cell,” Rogers said. “As I recall, it was a neighbor who called 911 for the fire itself.”

  “Or he started the fire and came back to watch what happened,” I said.

  “It was a grease fire. The mom admitted that she started cooking dinner…”

  “She said she thinks she did,” I corrected. “She assumes, but she doesn’t remember actually doing it.”

  “Ehh. It’s kind of a stretch, Amy.”

  “But this guy worked at a call center that burned down,” I said. “They moved to a new neighborhood, he complains about a dog barking, and then that house has a fire in their shed.”

  “Who retaliates for a loud dog by burning down a shed?”

  “That’s where the dog slept!” I said.

  “And where they probably have power tools which draw a lot of electricity on old circuits…” Vazquez said.

  Rogers listened quietly. “Has the Fire Inspector weighed in on any of this?”

  “We’ve submitted the data on several of these fires, but you know how overworked they are. I doubt they get to it before next Christmas.”