by Maddy Barone
His words, delivered in a tone that mixed open sincerity with teasing, pulled a smile to her lips. His hand smoothed up the back of her thigh, over the curve of her buttock, and up her back and around to cup one of her breasts. “Isa, you are so beautiful.”
“Me?” she blurted. “You are the beautiful one. You look like Calvin Klein should be beating down your door to sign you to model underwear.”
He ducked his head. Did he look embarrassed? “I want to make love with you.”
“Oh, yes,” she said.
Or thought she said. It was more of a breathy moan. It was all the permission he needed to pick her up and lay her on the bed. He made love expertly. For a moment jealousy flashed through her. How many women had he been with to become so skilled in touching and kissing? But the pleasure he wrung from her body pushed jealousy out in favor of gratitude. She didn’t have much practice with this, so it was a good thing Dusty knew what he was doing. Her body had never twisted in this kind of pleasure with her fiancé. What was his name again? She tried briefly to remember it, but Dusty’s was the only name she could think of right now. The only one she wanted to think of. She screamed it several times over the next half hour.
Afterward, she lay against him, as limp as an overcooked noodle. They were both sweating and panting and smiling.
“We never turned the light off,” she said dazedly.
“Next time.”
She lazily stroked her fingers over his heart. “Was it good?” She hesitated. “Was I…?”
“It was great, and you were better.” He laughed shakily. “I don’t know why women worry about their performance. After all, they don’t have to do anything but lay there. It’s us guys who have to perform. How was it for you? Did I make you happy?”
She laughed so hard her giggles turned to snorts. “It was wonderful.” She tried to find words, but failed. “Wonderful,” she said again, fiercely.
He assumed a smug expression. “Naturally.”
For a half-second, she believed he was serious. Then she saw the twitch of his lips when he smothered a grin. “You make jokes during sex?”
He waved a finger in her face. “Not during,” he corrected her in a lofty tone. “Only after.”
She laughed. It felt good to laugh. She just plain felt good, and it was all because of Dusty. The sex was great, yes, but it was more than that. It was him. The matter-of-fact way he treated her leg made it a non-issue. She would love him for that alone.
He yawned and shifted, as if getting up.
“Dusty? Where are you going? You’re not going home, are you?”
“I don’t have any gear with me,” he began.
“Please stay. I have a toothbrush still in the package, and—”
He silenced her with a light kiss over her lips. “I would love to stay. Thank you.”
Peace crept over her as she curled on her side, snuggling into Dusty. The air conditioning cooled the sweat on her skin and raised goosebumps. Dusty pulled the light summer blanket up over them both. She could be Isabel Ybarra de Wolfe and sleep with his comforting presence in her bed for the rest of her life. In her mind, longterm meant eventual marriage. What did it mean to him? She breathed in his scent and smiled. They didn’t need to figure it out tonight.
*
Dusty smoothed Isabel’s hair as he watched her sleep. He should get up and turn off the light, but he was too comfortable here with her. How strange. Usually after sex, he wanted to sleep and his partners wanted to talk. Not Isabel. She fell asleep in boneless relaxation like a cat in the sun, with no extra chatter. It was just another thing to love about her.
He continued to caress her lightly. For once, he wanted to talk after sex. Longterm. What he wanted was more than just a longterm relationship. H wanted forever. Maybe it was too early to talk to her about marriage, but that was what he wanted. A lifetime with Isabel Ybarra wouldn’t be long enough.
Her hair slid through his fingers like silk. Gently, he eased away from her and went to the light switch by the door. Before he flicked it off, he turned to look at her. She was so beautiful lying there, still flushed from lovemaking. Her beauty wasn’t in just her face and her figure. It was the strength and bravery of her spirit. She had what his grandmother would call a brave heart.
He turned off the light and went back to the bed. Gathering her into his arms, he knew Isabel Ybarra was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. He would give her some time to adjust to their new relationship, but he would be on the alert for the right moment to ask her to be his wife. He would make it romantic. He drifted to sleep, planning the perfect marriage proposal.
Chapter Twelve
“Isa!”
What a wonderful dream. She sighed into her pillow, loving the sound of Dusty’s voice. It sounded so real.
“Isa!”
A hand shook her shoulder. “Isabel! Wake up!”
“Wha?” She swam through fathoms of fog. “What?” She blinked up at Dusty. He wasn’t a dream. What was he doing in her room? Oh. Memory struck, bringing a smile to her lips.
He wasn’t smiling. “Hurry up. Get up. Get dressed.”
“But…”
“The building is on fire.” His voice was crisp, urgent, but not scared. “Move.”
The blare of the fire alarm stabbed deeply into her mind. How could she have slept through that? Awake, she moved. Forgetting dignity, she rolled out of bed and hopped to the dresser. The acrid tang of smoke stung her eyes and clawed at the back of her throat. She dressed rapidly while Dusty collected his garments from the floor of the bedroom and hall and put them on.
“Get outside,” he ordered. “Then call nine one one.”
She could hear the fire now, a dull roar with chillingly eerie whistles and pops, barely heard over the fire alarm. With the same rapid movements, she strapped on her leg. She could grab her laptop and her purse. They were close to the door. Could she gather together some photos and other things she’d hate to lose?
Dusty seemed to know what she was thinking. “No, there’s no time to pack stuff. Get out. Call nine one one.”
She hurried into the kitchen, slung her laptop over one shoulder and her purse over the other. “Wait! Linda and Mary Ellen. José.”
Dusty handed her cane to her. “They probably heard the fire alarm, but I’ll check on them. You get out.”
She hesitated just one second. “Be careful,” she whispered.
He gave her one hard kiss. “I will. Get going.”
The metal handrail on the staircase was hot to the touch. She moved as quickly as she could down the stairs. It was dark, and smoke made it hard to see. She was panting and coughing when she reached the fresh clean air of outdoors and finally had two hands free to make the call.
The person who answered spoke in a lazy drawl, as if she had all the time in the world. “Nine one one. What is your emergency?”
“My store is on fire!” As she spoke, she turned to look back at the building. Horror choked her when she saw the glow of flames through the small storeroom window. Smoke, as black as the night sky, blotted out the stars. She shouted her address to the call taker, who continued to ask leisurely questions. “Yes, there are people in danger!” Isabel replied, forcing herself to speak calmly. “There are apartments above the store, and my boyfriend went up to check on them. Ah, Dios!” She moaned when she heard a muffled crash from inside, and saw a shower of sparks dance at the outer wall. “No, I’m outside. Okay, okay, I’m moving back. Send the fire department.” It struck her in a wave of hysterical humor that her boyfriend was with the fire department. “Hurry!”
“Fire trucks are en route, ma’am,” the call-taker said placidly.
Flames leaped along the outside of the store now, dancing up to the second floor, then retreating, before stretching gleeful fingers to the third floor. That was José’s apartment. Linda and Mary Ellen were on the other side. Lights flicked on in Jose’s apartment. For one brief moment, she saw Dusty’s silhouette as it passed the
window.
“There!” she shouted into the phone. “I see him. Dusty. My boyfriend. He’s got José. Oh, thank God. He’s coming out the fire escape.”
Her elation faded when she saw José’s skinny frame hurrying down the fire escape alone. Where was Dusty? An agony of terror cut her breath off. Where was he?
“Ma’am?”
The still placid voice cut through her frantic worry. “What?” she snapped into the phone.
“The responders are nearing your location.”
“Yes, I can hear the sirens.”
Torn between relief that help was near and excruciating fear for Dusty, she cut the 911 operator off and called Inez. “Inez, the store is on fire.”
Her sister, obviously roused from sleep, was almost incoherent. Isabel ignored her when José ran to her.
“Isabel, this is all my fault,” the young man cried.
Isabel ignored that. “Where is Dusty?”
“He went back to find Linda and Mary Ellen. He tried to get them up first, but there was no answer, so he came for me. Now he says he’s going to kick their door in.”
“Isa!” screamed Inez over the phone. “Are you okay?”
She raised the phone back to her ear. “Yes, but Dusty…” She choked back a sob. “Oh, God, Inez.”
“Stay there! We’re coming.”
Inez had hung up. Dazedly, Isabel lowered her phone and stared hard at the burning building. The flames were wild on one side, but she didn’t see any flames on the other side, where Linda and Mary Ellen lived. “Come on, Dusty. Come on, come on,” she chanted through clenched teeth.
“What is that smell?” José wondered.
“Yarn. Wool yarn burning.” The loss of all their stock would horrify her later, she supposed, but right now the only thing she wanted safe from the fire was Dusty.
“The fire trucks are here. They are around front,” José said. “Let’s go see them.”
She noticed for the first time that he held his hands curled loosely against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“The fire escape was hot.” He winced. “My hands are burned.”
Looking more closely, she could see his palms were a mess. He wore jeans and shoes, but his chest was bare, showing his gang tattoos.
“Better your hands than all of you.”
“Si,” he agreed fervently. “I could be dead if your boyfriend didn’t come to wake me up. He said there would be an ambulance with the fire trucks. Let’s go around to the front.”
Since the fire blocked her usual route to the front of the store, going around to the front meant going down the alley for nearly half a block before they could cut through to the street. Still loaded down with her purse and laptop, Isabel speed-walked with José beside her to the street. There were uniformed personnel setting up barriers to keep cars and people away. The scream of the sirens, the flickering yellow light of the fire, and the flashing red lights of the firetruck and ambulance bombarded Isabel’s senses until she felt like she was in a surreal nightmare. She blinked at the people standing on the other side of the street, staring with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Ambulance chasers. She nodded at the ambulance parked half a block down and gave José a little push in that direction before turning back to the store.
There were grim-faced firemen dressed in heavy protective clothing standing by one of the trucks, apparently studying something one of them held. She could hear everything they said, but she caught something about evacuating the neighboring buildings. Isabel went to them.
“Excuse me.” She had to raise her voice to nearly a shout to be heard over the sirens and the roaring of the fire. “I am Isabel Ybarra, and this is my store.”
The firefighters all turned to her. One of them was a woman. “Ma’am, can you tell us if anyone is inside the building?”
Isabel clamped her hand so tightly over the head of her cane that her knuckles hurt. “Yes, there are two women who live in a third-floor apartment. And my boyfriend is still in there trying to get them out.”
One of the firefighters turned away and spoke into a mic, relaying her information. The female firefighter nodded gravely. “Can you tell me where the apartment is located?”
Isabel lifted her eyes to the windows in the top floor and pointed. “Those windows on the left side of building are in Linda and Mary Ellen’s apartment. Dusty went to their apartment first, but there was no answer, so he went to get José.” She tipped her head toward the ambulance. “José got out by the fire escape. He burned his hands on the metal, but he’s okay. Dusty went back to the other apartment to try to wake the women up.”
“Dusty is your boyfriend?”
“Yes, Dusty Wolfe. He’s an EMS with the Five-Eight.”
A subtle change came over the faces of all three firefighters. The female nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. Please step back across the street.”
There was no light in Linda and Mary Ellen’s apartment, and no movement by the windows. But no flames were shooting out of the windows either. Where was Dusty? “Please save him,” she begged the firefighters. “And Linda and Mary Ellen,” she added.
Slowly, turning often to look back at the windows, she trudged over to the ambulance. An EMS was spreading ointment over José’s palms.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Not too bad,” he responded. “Second degree burns. Have you seen Linda or Mary Ellen yet? Or your boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “No.”
José shook his head sadly. “He’s brave, your boyfriend. I told him to come out with me, but he went back for the ladies. He said that some people don’t wake up in a fire because the fire uses up all the oxygen. Do you think they are d—”
“No.” Her voice was sharp. “Linda doesn’t hear as well as she used to, that’s all. She said that she and Mary Ellen wanted to turn in early because they want a good night’s sleep. They have big plans tomorrow. Dusty will wake them up. And the firefighters know they are in there. They’ll be out any minute.”
“Yeah, yeah,” José agreed softly.
“The Five-Seven is a good bunch,” the EMS said quietly. “They’ll do everything they can to get it done.”
Isabel nodded wordlessly.
The EMS gave her a ridiculously cheerful smile. “Could you step away? We want a clear route for them when they come out. They’ll need to be checked over.”
Of course. Linda wasn’t as young or spry as she had been. When Dusty helped her out she would need medical attention. Isabel took several steps back.
“Isa!”
Isabel jerked around at the sound of her name, the forgotten weight of her laptop and purse nearly pulling her off balance. It was Inez, Eduardo close behind her, hurrying through the growing line of people standing around. Who was awake at this hour to come watch a fire? Isabel glanced down at her wrist to check the time, but of course, her wrist was bare.
Inez threw herself at Isabel. “Are you okay? How about…” Her wide brown eyes took in the ambulance and the EMS who was wrapping gauze around José’s hands. “Oh, José, there you are. Are you okay?”
José nodded. “Dusty saved me.”
Eduardo reached them and gathered both his sisters into a hug. “Thank God you are alive.” He looked up at the building he owned, flames now pouring out of almost every window. “How did this happen?”
Isabel didn’t know how her sister and brother had come so quickly. “Manuel?” she asked.
“Home with the kids,” Inez answered, staring at the store. “Oh, God, all the yarn! The patterns and needles, and all our things!”
What did any of that matter? Isabel looked at the fire and couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Even the windows in Linda and Mary Ellen’s apartment were lit with fire from within now. “Dusty,” she moaned.
“Dusty?” Eduardo sounded confused. “Thank God you’re okay,” he said. “Don’t cry, Isa. The store can be rebuilt, and your things can be replaced. If you were trapped in the fire, we coul
d not replace you.”
Her brother’s calm, comforting voice made new tears flow. “Eddie, the man I love is trapped in the fire. He stayed to rescue other people.”
His broad hand stroked her tangled hair. “He is a brave man, then.” His voice remained mild but it took on a slight edge. “And what was this man that you love doing at your place at one o’clock in the morning?”
Here she was, thirty-three years old, being called on the carpet for having a man spend the night. It was the first time she’d had a man over and of course her brother found out about it immediately. She lifted her head proudly. “We love each other. This isn’t a one night stand. We’re not kids making out under the bleachers. We are adults looking at a longterm, committed relationship.”
Inez cried, “Niña, I am so happy for you!”
Isabel looked back at the fire. It seemed the entire building was engulfed in flames. “I can’t have a future with him if he dies in this fire.”
They all were quiet, watching the firefighters in their reflective clothing direct water hoses at the burning building. Eduardo spoke in a dazed voice. “How could this have happened? Manuel did the inspection just this spring and the wiring was in good shape.”
José slid off the gurney. He stood up straight, but Isabel could see that it took effort to meet Eduardo’s gaze. “It’s my fault, señor. The Scorpions have been harassing me to come back to the gang. Threatening me. They must have set this fire. Who else would have?”
Eduardo’s brows drew together as his gaze ran over the gang tatts on José’s arms and chest. Before he could speak, Inez cut him off.
“It is not your fault that these former friends of yours are breaking the law. You stand tall and know that you haven’t done anything wrong.”
José’s mouth trembled. “Gracias.”
“Oh, my God!” shrieked a familiar voice. “Our place is on fire! Mary Ellen, I told you it was our place!”
Horror chased relief into a pool of shock and sunk like a rock in her middle. Isabel stared at her upstairs neighbor. “Linda?” She looked from Linda to the burning building and back again. “What are you doing out here?”
