Gunnar's Guardian

by Pandora Pine

  As much as I knew how good for Gunnar Hal would be, I wasn’t going to give up that easily. There had to be something I could do that would show Gunnar how sorry I was and that I had all the faith in the world in him. Which brought me back to where I’d started. What the hell could I do?

  I could go shopping for him. Buy him new clothes or a piece of jewelry. A nice ring or a fire department pendant. That might be nice, but on the other hand, it would also look like I was trying to buy his forgiveness. The last thing I wanted to do was solve this problem with money. His parents would do that very thing. I didn’t want to remind him of those days.

  Maybe a puppy or a kitten? Who didn’t love animals? Maybe a sweet little dog would be just the thing so show him how much I trusted him. Christ, what if he was allergic to animals? I couldn’t remember him saying he had any allergies, but dogs hadn’t exactly come up in our conversations either. It would be worse to show up with a rescue dog and then have Gunnar not be able to keep it.

  Shit, this making up business was harder than I thought. I’d never really had anyone in my life that I loved enough to make a grand gesture. Mandy maybe, but that was a different kind of love.

  Yes, I was in love with Gunnar. I think I had been from the night he’d nearly burned down the house. He’d looked so lost and shocked by what happened. I’d wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, but I didn’t. I was a dick instead, insulting him and making him feel worse about the situation.

  Speaking of my mother, I could call Mandy and ask for her opinion. She always knew how to make me feel better and I was positive she could help now. She’d know exactly what Gunnar would need. Only that was taking the easy way out. Gunnar was my man, or at least he used to be. I should be able to figure out what to say or do to get him back.

  Grand gesture, then. What kind of gesture would show Gunnar how sorry I was for being a complete dick last night? Skywriting? Dedicating a song on the radio? Christ, those all sounded more lame than just calling to say, “I’m sorry.”

  Grabbing the keys, I headed out of the house, I was hoping that being out in the sunshine would help me get a better angle on this whole thing. I couldn’t help noticing Gunnar’s car was gone when I walked outside. I knew he had a shift at the firehouse today.

  In the beginning, I just wanted him to have a job. Any job so that he could feed himself and be able to pay rent. I had no idea he was going to find his calling and make so many friends. In a way, he reminded me of myself when I went to live with the McCoys. I never imagined I would find a permanent home and a real family with strangers. Gunnar had a family. A well to do one and they threw him away like an empty pizza box. I bet he never would have guessed that by getting kicked out, he’d find where he truly belonged.

  Now I’d gone and fucked that all up for him. Before I pulled out of the driveway, I dialed Ozzy’s office number. I only wanted to speak to him if he was in his office and away from the others, namely, Gunnar.

  “All hail, King Asshole,” Ozzy’s cheerful voice blasted through the cab of my truck.

  “Hello to you too.” Dickhead. He wasn’t far off with his description of me.

  “What can I do for you, little brother?” I could just tell Ozzy was wearing that shit-eating grin again.

  “How’s Gunnar?” I felt ridiculous asking my brother, like we were back in high school again and Oz had a class with my crush.

  “Why don’t you ask him for yourself?” His voice was smug.

  “Jesus Christ, help a brother out here. I’m in over my head. How the hell do I apologize to him for being King Asshole?” I’d filled Ozzy in earlier on what had happened last night. He’d had no trouble telling me what a complete asshat I’d been, but what he’d failed to do was offer any advice.

  “Why don’t you start with just saying those two little words? They go a long way, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. This was big, Oz. I really fucked up. I was sorry the minute the words flew out of my stupid mouth, but I was too proud to take them back.” I took a ragged breath. “When I saw McMasters punch him in the face and Gunnar hit the ground, I swear my heart stopped.”

  Ozzy sighed. I knew I had him back in my corner. “I know where your heart and your head were last night, but what would have happened if you’d stayed with your team working on your sting?”

  “Jesus, Ozzy-” I interrupted.

  “Not Jesus, Ozzy. Answer the question. If you hadn’t been there last night, what would have happened to Gunnar?”

  “I don’t know.” That wasn’t exactly true.

  “Kennedy.” Ozzy’s voice had taken on a warning tone.

  “He would have picked himself off the ground and made sure no one else got hurt. He probably would have gotten punched in the face again too. Or beaten to a bloody pulp by the mob of people. There. Happy?”

  “No, I’m not happy. Neither are you.” Ozzy paused. “There wasn’t a mob of people there. Just some neighbors who’d turned out to see what they could do to help or to film the scene. From what I understand from the others there, Gunnar was doing a good job of defusing the situation until you rode in like Lancelot.”

  “Funny.”

  “No. It isn’t funny. Look, I know that you’re afraid something is going to happen to him if you don’t hover like a tiger mom, but the truth of the matter is, that isn’t going to happen. Hal and Max were on scene and so was Firehouse Two after we called a second alarm. Gunnar would have been fine.”

  “Okay, probably.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that he needs the opportunity to stand on his own two feet? It’s part of the reason I gave him this assignment in the first place. I wanted him to see something through and gain some confidence for a job well done. He can’t have that if you keep busting in like The Lone Ranger.”

  Ozzy had a slight point. Maybe. It was my turn to sigh. I’d been through years of therapy to break me of the thought that I could have done something to save my mother that night twenty years ago. It had helped a little, but not enough to keep me from repeating those past behaviors with Gunnar.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re right.” He was. Ozzy always had my back.

  “The kid is crazy for the lobster tail pastries at that Italian place over on Rodgers Street. Grab a dozen of them and some of their espressos to drop off here. The guys will be so busy grabbing the pastry and caffeine that no one will notice if you drag the kid off to apologize.”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? Gunnar had been talking about those pastries for the last week. “Good idea. Thanks, Ozzy. What would I do without you?”

  “Drive our parents crazy. What else? While you’re at it, grab some of those apple fritters too.”

  “Who likes apple fritters?” I didn’t remember Gunnar mentioning them.

  “I do! Consider them payment for a job well done. Bye.”

  Before I could respond, Ozzy was gone. He’d made some good suggestions. Things I would have thought of on my own if my heart didn’t feel as if it were shriveling in my chest.

  Turning the car toward downtown, I could only hope I wasn’t too late.

  32

  Gunnar

  In all the time I’d been working at the firehouse, I’d never wanted the bell not to ring so hard as I did today. I think I’d gotten about forty-five minutes sleep the whole night. Kennedy’s aftershave lingered on my sheets and I kept waking up to reach for him, but of course he wasn’t there.

  Before I had to come to work, I must have picked up my phone a dozen times to call him. I set it back down every single time. Kennedy was the one who’d been insufferable, not me. He could damn well apologize. Besides, I didn’t want to look weak in front of him. If Kennedy knew he could get away with not apologizing every time he acted like a first-class dick, then he’d always act like that.

  After breakfast with Mandy and David, I half expected Kennedy to call me. I figured his parents would call and
tell him what a jerk he’d been and that he’d best apologize to me as soon as possible. I’d spent the entire morning jumping at every sound thinking it was my phone ringing. It wasn’t.

  “How’s it going?” Hal Rossi sat down next to me at the dining table. When we weren’t eating meals on it or having team meetings, it was my workspace. I was about to listen to the 911 call from the Metzger fire.

  I shrugged. “I’m doing the best I can with this assignment from Ozzy.” I liked Hal. I wanted to spill my guts to him, but I knew that if this thing blew over with Kennedy, I didn’t want there to be any tension between them over me.

  “We all saw what happened last night with McMasters hitting you and Kennedy coming to your rescue.” Hal sighed dreamily. “What I’d give for a man to be my guardian angel. Just make sure you let him know who’s boss.” He dropped me a wink.

  That’s exactly what I needed to do. Let Kennedy know who was boss. Me. It didn’t matter that he’d been the one to start this. I was going to be the one who ended it. Reaching for my phone, I finally knew exactly what I was going to say to Kennedy. I was about to hit his number when I was interrupted by something going on downstairs.

  “Hello, Firehouse Three!” a very familiar voice called. “Why don’t you all come down here! I’ve got something for you!”

  Carl and Max, who were watching Die Hard for what had to be the millionth time shot me a questioning look.

  “I have no idea what’s going on either.” Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I headed toward the stairs where my suspicion about the voice was confirmed. It wasn’t Kennedy standing in front of the ladder truck, it was Dillon McMasters. Christ, now what?

  Dillon looked full of good cheer. He was dressed in baggy black pants with a Led Zeppelin tee and a casual suit jacket that looked to be a size too big for him. He must have really lost his mind if he thought that rag-tag outfit looked good on him. That’s when it hit me that the clothes he was wearing were probably from the Red Cross. I’d heard they’d been helping him out after the fire.

  “What are you doing here, Dillon?” Ozzy asked. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and pasted on a sympathetic look.

  I didn’t need psychic powers to know he was pissed at this invasion and was trying to candy-coat his anger, especially after what happened at the fire scene last night.

  “Isn’t this nice,” Dillon snarled. “One big happy family. The gang’s all here. Captain Graves. Hal and Maxine. Chasten. Carl. Jenks. Gunnar. All the people who let my family die. What a fucking moment. I feel like we need to commemorate this gathering somehow. Maybe we should take a selfie?”

  “Look, Dillon,” Ozzy’s voice sounded strained as if his patience were only hanging on by a single thread. “We’re all so very sorry about what happened to your family. I wish I could change the outcome. I really do.”

  “Change the outcome. Hmm, that sounds very giving of you.” Dillion giggled. It was filled with nerves and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “How would you change the outcome? Hypothetically speaking, because of course nothing you do, or say you would have done, could ever bring back my beautiful girls. Suzi. Katy. Bella.”

  Ozzy tensed. He kept his eyes on Dillon the whole time. I was getting a really bad feeling about where this was going. My fingers itched to grab my phone and call Kennedy or 911.

  “I’d give my life for theirs,” Ozzy said sadly. “I wish there was more I could have done for them. The call came in too late. The fire was burning too hot. The point of origin was at the base of the stairs. By the time everyone woke up, Suzi and the girls were trapped upstairs by the fire and smoke. We did everything humanly possible to save you and them.”

  “Give your life for theirs? What a good idea.” Dillon reached into his ill-fitting jacket and pulled out a gun. Without missing a beat, he pointed it at Ozzy and fired.

  I hit the deck, landing flat on my stomach. I could smell burnt gunpowder as I lifted my head. Ozzy was down, clutching a hand against the left side of his chest. I could see blood pouring out through the wound.

  Hal Rossi broke from where he was standing, running toward Ozzy. “It’s okay, boss. You’re going to be okay,” he said in a calm, reassuring voice.

  Chasten reached for his phone. The others looked poised to move and help Ozzy.

  “No one move. Hands in the air. All of you. Even you, Superman.” Dillon leveled the gun at Hal, whose hands were sticky with Ozzy’s blood. “Now, one by one, I’m going down the line and taking your phones. We can’t have the police showing up here before the fat lady sings, can we?”

  What the hell was going on here? Was this some kind of hostage situation? Christ, why hadn’t I called Kennedy. He would have known something was up if I’d been on the phone with him when Dillon arrived. Last night, I’d been so pissed off that he’d shown up at the fire to save me, now, I’d give anything for him to ride in on his white horse.

  “Okay, Dillon, we’ll do exactly what you say. My phone is in my back pocket.” I don’t know where that even came from. I needed to get his attention away from Hal and Ozzy, who was still flat on his back.

  “Take it out and slide it across the floor.” He pointed the gun at my head.

  I wasn’t about to play games with him. He’d been a deadeye shot with Ozzy. I had no doubt he’d do the same thing with me. With one hand still raised above my head, I fished out my phone and slid it across the concrete floor. It kicked up against Dillon’s scuffed, second-hand boots.

  “Now, you, Max!” The gun moved from me to Maxine.

  Her hands shook as she did what he asked. She pushed the phone across the floor like I’d done, only it didn’t move as far. Dillon walked up to it and stomped on it. The firehouse was filled with the sound of breaking glass and the gasps of the others.

  One by one, Dillon collected the phones of everyone gathered around him. All the while a sadistic grin twisted his handsome features into something monstrous.

  “Okay, you have our phones,” I said carefully. “Now what?”

  “Shut the bay doors.” Dillon motioned the gun toward the three large bay doors opening the firehouse to the outdoors.

  Getting to my feet slowly, I kept my hands in the air. My gaze passed over Ozzy who was breathing heavily. His eyes were wide open and focused on Dillon. Rage burned in his dark eyes.

  “The buttons are back here.” I motioned behind myself, but kept my eyes on Dillon and the gun he was pointing at me.

  Dillon lurched forward, grabbing Max and pulling her to her feet. She let out a scared shriek. “No funny business or I’ll shoot her. You know I will.” The barrel of the gun was flush against her temple.

  I knew he would. I didn’t need to be told twice. Max looked terrified. She had a husband and two kids at home. There was no way I would do anything to jeopardize her or the others.

  “It’s going to rumble when I press the button. Don’t be…” Be what? Scared? I didn’t want to piss him off by accusing him of being anything. “Don’t be surprised.” It was the best I could do under the circumstances. My brain felt like it weighed a ton and information was passing practically in reverse.

  “Just do it!” Dillon hissed.

  With my hands held up on either side of my head, I walked to the control box and hit the button for the first door. I turned back to my captor watching him the whole time. When the machinery started to churn, Dillon jumped, just like I knew he would. That damned doors moving scared the shit out of me every time it started.

  “The others! Close the other fucking doors!”

  “You can only do one at a time.” That was a lie. All five doors could be operated at once, but Dillon had no way of knowing that. I was trying to buy time just in case Kennedy or someone else who could help was on their way here. When the first door was down, I hit the button for the second. I swear it felt like time was standing still. I would swear on my life it had never taken this long for that door to close before. I did the same thing with buttons three and four.
Last, I hit the fifth button. Our final lifeline to the outside world.

  The temperature was in the high eighties again. Maybe someone would notice the fire doors were closed and would call 911. Shit, speaking of 911, what happened if there was a fire or a medical emergency? What the hell would Dillon do if the siren went off now? My stomach rumbled just thinking it.

  “Get back over here. Down on the floor.” Dillon was motioning me with his gun. At least this way it wasn’t pointed at anyone.

  I did what he asked.

  “You,” Dillon pointed the gun at Hal, who was holding his hands over Ozzy’s chest wound. “Lock the side door. We don’t want anyone interrupting our little reunion, now, do we?”

  “I can’t leave him. I’m keeping pressure on the wound.” Hal wore a desperate look in his eyes.

  “Suit yourself.” Dillon fired again. There was a brief mist of blood before Hal’s head snapped back and he fell to the floor.

  The scream froze in my throat. Hal was staring up at the ceiling with a hole in his forehead. A puddle of blood began to pool around him. My sweet friend who’d accepted me from the moment I stepped foot in the firehouse. Hal was dead.

  “You!” The gun swung back at me. “Lock the door. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

  I practically ran to the door. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t get a firm grip. It took three tries before the bolt turned. I got one last peek outside. There was no one out there. No dog walkers or joggers. The street was empty. I couldn’t help wondering if that would be the last time I saw blue skies and sunshine on this side of heaven.

  As I hurried back toward Dillon, I made a promise to myself that I would survive. Someone needed to tell the tale of what happened here today.

  Just survive.

  33

  Kennedy

  I did just what Ozzy said and went to the Italian bakery downtown. Mario’s was a Gloucester landmark and had been my family’s go-to bakery since we were kids. Every birthday party, Christmas morning, and special occasion weren’t special without Mario and his works of art.