Progressing with Storm [Granite County 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting ManLove)

by Bellann Summer

  “Shit. Get off of me. I can’t breathe,” MD wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

  Storm rolled over and looked up. Black smoke rolled out of the window. The crackles and popping of the fire grew louder as fresh air fanned the flames somewhere within the house. Storm scrambled to his feet and rushed to the window. Thick smoke prevented him from seeing inside the room.

  “Help.”

  Stunned, Storm looked at MD, whose face reflected Storm’s surprise. The weak voice he’d heard sounded hoarse and was followed by coughing. The past mercenary and the present firefighter inside Storm kicked to the surface. It was time to save a victim.

  “There’s no way you’ll fit through that window. Give me a hand up, and I’ll see if I can find them,” MD said.

  Storm ignored his friend and put his foot on the tree’s container. Bracing his hands on the bottom of the window, Storm heaved himself up and propelled himself through the opening. He ended up having to maneuver his body sideways to get through the window. Bits of broken glass bit into his flesh, raking over his sides and tearing at his T-shirt, dark dress pants, and skin. Storm’s teeth snapped together from the impact of hitting the floor.

  Over the roar of the fire, Storm heard MD yell, “Take my shirt and put it over your face.”

  Storm’s lungs seized, objecting to the thick smoke he was breathing in. Coughing, Storm reached up and grabbed the wadded-up cloth held out to him through the broken window. Holding it over his face, Storm rolled over onto his belly, trying to keep as close to the fresher air near the floor.

  Through watering eyes, he looked around. The far wall glowed as the fire had yet to break through into the room. He knew he didn’t have much time before the flames would engulf the wall and spread quickly. Movement caught his attention. Through the thick, murky air, Storm peered at a shadowy form lying on the floor. He realized a hand was reaching out toward him.

  Storm immediately was on the move, scrambling on his hands and knees as fast as he could across the floor. At that moment fire broke through the walls in front of him. Orange and yellow flames shot up and licked the ceiling. Heat seared his skin. He heard nothing but the fire’s roar as the beast started to overtake the room.

  In one motion, Storm scooped up the person, stood, and stumbled back toward the window. Sparks showered all around him, nipping at the back of his neck and shoulders, sinking through the cloth of his shirt. Storm never stopped. Holding the smaller person as close to his body as he could, Storm tried his best to protect the person’s head as he propelled them both sideways through the window.

  Chapter Two

  Storm gritted his teeth as the window frame scraped the skin off the underside of his arm. He had one moment to catch his breath as his body freefell through the air before a cry was ripped from him when his left shoulder and arm slammed into the hard earth.

  “Let go, Storm, I need to work on him,” MD ordered.

  Pain blazed through Storm’s lungs as a bone-shaking cough gripped him before it tried to rip him in two. Somehow he managed to loosen his right arm from around the man. That was when he realized his left arm wouldn’t move. When MD pulled the man away, Storm lay there and continued to try to cough the smoke out.

  Sirens and horns pierced the air, getting louder until Storm finally looked up. Wiping at his weeping, irritated eyes, he watched a huge red firefighting rig maneuver its great bulk into the overgrown dirt driveway. A smaller rig followed, with a water tanker bringing up the rear. The big rig veered off the driveway onto the grass.

  As one, the crew of firefighters clad in yellow protective suits and helmets sprang into action, unrolling hoses and attaching them to the water tanker. Storm’s skin prickled with excitement as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The scene in front of him was what he lived for. He was a fireman, and there was a fire to fight.

  With his trained eye, Storm watched the tall captain direct his men in a precise dance orchestrated to battle the now fully-fire-engulfed house on Storm’s other side.

  After a few minutes, the captain and two other men broke away and ran to Storm and MD.

  “Is there anyone else in the house?” the captain yelled over the chaos of shouts and blaring sirens.

  Storm’s lungs had calmed down enough for him to squint up through watering eyes up the captain. “I don’t know. I pulled that guy out right before you arrived,” he yelled back before being overcome by another coughing fit.

  “We need to get you away from the house. Can you stand?” the captain asked

  “When I landed, I injured my shoulder, arm, and ribs,” he admitted.

  “My men need to work, and I don’t want any debris to fall on you. I’ll hold your arm in place, and between us, we’ll get you out of here,” the captain said.

  After a moment, Storm dragged his gaze away from the piercing green eyes and square jaw of the captain to see MD had the victim sitting up. Two firemen were urging them both to stand.

  “All right,” Storm answered, looking back at the captain. He liked the confidence and authority rolling off the calm man.

  The captain knelt behind Storm. “Come on. Let’s give this a try.”

  The man took ahold of Storm’s good arm, and Storm bent his knees. Together they managed to get Storm painfully to his feet. Storm lost his balance, and his body rocked back into the captain’s arms.

  “Fuck, that hurts,” Storm yelled. It was all he could do not to punch out with his good hand at something.

  “Let’s get you over to the ambulance,” the captain said calmly.

  Storm paused, breathing through the pain. He saw MD was having a discussion with the two emergency medical technicians while they placed an oxygen mask over the coughing victim’s nose.

  MD turned his head toward them, and Storm watched his eyes widen. Leaving the victim to the technician’s care, MD headed Storm’s way. All the while MD’s eyes were glued to the captain. Beside Storm, the captain sharply inhaled.

  “His name is MD, and he loves pizza,” Storm said out the side of his mouth.

  “Thanks,” the captain responded.

  By the time MD reached them, a frown marred his brow. “Storm? What hurts?”

  “I think I bruised a couple of ribs, and I’m more than sure I’ve dislocated my shoulder,” Storm answered.

  “How do you want to handle it?” MD asked, gently probing Storm’s shoulder and upper arm before running his fingers down to Storm’s fingers.

  Over the years, MD had taken care of the unit’s injuries as they fulfilled their duties to the government in the pits of evil. They might be retired now, but that didn’t stop Storm from trusting MD with his life.

  “Can you pop it back in?” he asked.

  “Wait a minute. You need to go to the hospital for that,” the captain said.

  “I agree. With his muscles, I’m sure he’s going to need a shot of muscle relaxant before we can get that sucker back in,” MD said. “But the odds of getting him there aren’t good.”

  “You’re damn right he isn’t going to any hospital,” Storm stated, coughing some more.

  Storm hated needles and being under medical care in hospitals. If they thought he would willingly let them take him to one of those joints to be poked and prodded, they had another think coming. It might hurt like a son of a bitch, but he would leave it like it was and walk away before he went to any hospital. A few people who were too stupid to realize they were taking their lives into their hands had called Storm a baby and a brat. They had gotten away with it because in the end he honestly didn’t care what they said. He wasn’t going.

  “Okay, I know that look. Do I have to call Synn and the guys so they can come over here and force you to go in? They are only three blocks away,” MD said.

  “Just try it, MD,” Storm challenged.

  MD stepped up into Storm’s face. Storm looked down at his shorter good friend. There must have been all of two inches between their faces.

  “You may be bigger and badder than
me, but let me make it clear. When it comes to the wellbeing of our team, I am willing to take on anyone, including your overgrown muscled selves, to keep you guys in one piece,” MD bit out.

  Determination and anger covered MD’s face. Storm sighed. Once MD had that look on his face, there was no changing it. Storm might be stubborn and a hothead, but that didn’t come near to the fire in MD when his temper was riled. And Storm was no fool. It was time to backtrack.

  “Come on, MD. All I’m asking is that you try to pop it back in,” Storm said.

  “I can try, but I don’t think it’s going to work.” MD put his hands on his hips. “So, are we in agreement? If I can’t get it in, you’ll go to the hospital willingly?”

  Pain and pressure ripped down Storm’s arm, and he couldn’t stop the coughing fit that grabbed a hold of him. By the time he finished, his lungs burned and his throat was raw. It took a while for him to regain his composure.

  “Lie down, Storm. That’s the only way this might work,” MD said.

  With the captain’s assistance, Storm found himself lying on the overgrown lawn. He didn’t care how much his arm screamed in pain. Storm couldn’t keep from smiling. Somehow he had won against MD and wasn’t going to have to go to the hospital. After all, in the end, if MD couldn’t put the joint back together, he hadn’t exactly agreed to MD’s terms.

  Storm looked over and saw the victim being loaded into an ambulance. Farther back, a different set of EMS technicians were unloading a gurney from a second ambulance.

  Oh hell no, he thought.

  “MD, hurry up and put the damn thing back in,” he ordered.

  Storm watched MD pick up and shake the discarded shirt Storm had used to cover his face in the burning room. He quickly knelt and slid it under Storm’s back and around his chest.

  “Captain, pick up Storm’s arm and get a good grip on it. While you pull and lift his arm, I’ll use this shirt to manipulate his chest,” MD ordered.

  Storm stiffened. He knew this was going to hurt like hell, and now the squeak and creak of the gurney was getting closer.

  The shirt around his chest loosened. Storm opened his eyes and looked at MD. “What?” he asked.

  “There’s no way it’s going in. You’re too stiff, Storm,” MD answered.

  “Just try,” Storm urged. “I’ll relax.”

  MD shook his head, and Storm’s temper simmered. Painfully, he struggled to sit up. He bit back a curse when the captain had to help him. Worst of all, the hated gurney was now next to him.

  “I’m not going to the hospital, so take that damn thing away,” he ordered.

  Adrenaline, fear, anger, or whatever else a person wanted to call it kicked in. Storm braced his good hand against the ground and staggered to his feet. He hissed as pain exploded in his shoulder and sliced down his arm. Ready to walk away and find a bottle of whiskey to drown his sorrows, Storm turned, only to be brought up short. In front of Storm stood the former commander of his unit, who was now the chief deputy of Granite County.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Storm?” Synn Romeo asked. Only a fool ignored the steel underlying Synn’s casual question. Synn, or Mr. Creole as the unit called him, had come by his position of authority honestly. He was a genuine badass.

  “No, sir,” Storm answered.

  Storm fought the urge to stamp his foot and scream. The last time he’d done that the guys had howled with laughter and asked him if he thought he was still two years old. Head held high, Storm turned and purposely walked past the gurney and headed toward the waiting ambulance. Damn it, he hated being outmaneuvered.

  Chapter Three

  Kris Winters sat on a stool behind the counter of his flower shop, Flowers by Kris. He knew he shouldn’t still be here, but Corey wasn’t back from delivering the flower orders. Taking a couple of pain pills out of the prescription bottle, he quickly swallowed them down with some water. Kris was determined to be able to stay at the store long enough so he and Corey could go home together.

  For the last week, Kris had managed to come into the store for a few hours every day. Corey had been very generous with his help around the store and volunteering to deliver the few flower arrangements Kris put together. Kris felt better every day, but it was a slow struggle to heal his wounded body.

  It had been only a month since the horror of his bad decisions had come to an explosive and bloody conclusion. Sometimes, before he could stop them, the memories overwhelmed him.

  Oliver Akler, whose name Kris later found out was really Blaine Noir, had walked into the flower shop one day looking to buy pink orchids. He said they were for his mother. Oliver’s thick brown hair and intense blue eyes had dazzled Kris. Later he would realize that the intenseness in Oliver’s eyes was actually the look of the insane.

  Oliver worked fast and charmed his way into Kris’s lonely bed the day after their initial meeting. Kris enjoyed rough sex on occasion, but sex with Oliver was on a whole new level. His neck had ended up being bruised by Oliver’s squeezing hand and sharp, vicious teeth. By the end of the first week, Kris wore long-sleeved shirts to hide the deep scratches on his arms. Kris still shuddered at the memories of Oliver spanking his ass until it was purple and pounding his hole until he begged for mercy. Kris pushed away the memories of the events that followed his telling Oliver they were over.

  Behind Kris, the door leading to the storage area opened, startling him out of his musings. His new part-time assistant came through, holding a bunch of double blossom yellow roses she intended to arrange in one of the glass vases stored on a shelf behind the counter.

  “I think these will get Mike Stoffen out of the dog house with his wife, Erica,” Heidi said, her blues eyes sparkling with mirth. Mike was a regular at the flower shop as he tried to keep his very uncomfortable pregnant wife somewhat happy.

  “It’s a good thing for us and Mike that Erica loves flowers.” Kris chuckled.

  Horns blared, lights flashed, and ear-splitting sirens screamed as a fire truck raced past the store’s large picture window. Seconds later, two more red emergency vehicles with their warning lights flashing and alarms shrieking went by.

  “Wow, there must be a good-sized fire someplace if they’re taking the water tanker out,” Heidi commented.

  “It’s been so dry this summer,” Kris observed. “Hopefully it’s just a grass fire or something and no one is injured.”

  The large area behind the customer checkout counter held a huge wooden worktable, and supply shelves lined the walls. In the past, Kris regularly spent long hours at the table creating arrangements for special events, including weddings, banquets, and funerals.

  For the last month, the table had been empty. Kris was still healing from Oliver cutting his body to pieces and tearing his soul apart. Sometimes Kris wondered if the damage to his soul was worse than the damage to his body.

  “Kris, it’s almost three o’clock. Shouldn’t Corey be back by now? I have a dentist appointment and need to leave soon.”

  Heidi’s face still had a pleasant expression on it, but Kris saw the anger simmering in her eyes. She and her husband, John, lived in a beautiful Victorian house next door to Kris’s home. For the last year, she’d watched Corey drift in and out of Kris’s life. She didn’t understand that when one was as rich and as good looking as Corey, it was hard to settle down with a plain flower shop owner.

  “He had three deliveries. The last address was near the industrial park. According to the notes, a guy had called and ordered a bouquet for his grandmother. He said he wanted to brighten her day. I thought a mixture of Coreopsis and Gaura would bring a smile to her face.”

  “That sounds lovely.” Heidi placed the roses on the table and took out one of the smaller cutting sheers from a container set in the middle of the work area.

  Kris leaned over and studied his ledger. A Gene Campbell had spent forty-five bucks on his grandmother. According to the log, Corey had taken care of the transaction, and Gene had paid with a charge card over the phone.
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  Heidi walked over to Kris and gently put her hand on his leg. Since the attack, he could only endure lightweight, loose-fitting athletic wear against his skin. The nerves along the edges of the healing scars and repaired skin were too sensitive for anything heavier rubbing against it.

  “Honey, I know we’ve talked about this before, but are you sure letting Corey back into your life is a good thing? I know he’s claimed he had a change of heart when he heard you were dating Oliver and the subsequent attack. I’ll even admit, since he’s been back, he attends to your every need and there is love in his eyes when he looks at you. But can you really trust him?”

  Heidi’s hand crept into Kris’s, and he played with her fingers while he thought about his answer. Finally, he decided the truth was best.

  “I want to. He never cheated on me. He was always upfront that he was leaving because he needed to experience more of the world.” Kris looked up into Heidi’s blue eyes. “I told him while I was still in the hospital recovering that I refuse to live life waiting for the other shoe to drop like I did before. If he chose to come back, it had to be because he wanted to stay and be with me forever.”

  “He’s still here, so he must have agreed to a forever,” Heidi pointed out.

  Kris knew his smile was sad. “He would marry me tomorrow if I’d agree to it. But I won’t. Oliver messed me up physically and mentally. I’m the one who needs the time now. And, so far, Corey is giving it to me.”

  He left his explanation at that. Heidi didn’t need to know how deep the problems were that existed in his relationship with Corey.

  Heidi gave Kris a big hug. “I love you, my friend. I truly believe if a person follows their heart everything will work out.”

  The two spent the next few minutes creating flower arrangements for walk-ins to buy from the coolers. Heidi had to leave after that, and Kris relaxed back on his stool, resting. He tried contacting Corey, but his calls kept going to voice mail.

  A half-hour later, Kris gave up and decided to go home. The lock-up procedure didn’t take long, and soon he was sliding into the seat of his Honda Civic. Before he could start the engine, his cell phone rang.