by Teagan Kade
“I don’t really have all her information, but I’ve got a name and address,” I tell her. “She came in last night.”
Just then, a voice rings out from just down the hall, and when I turn to see who it is, I recognize the man as a police officer who was at the scene of the fire.
“Hey, you’re that firefighter, right? From last night?”
I smile back. “That’s me, in the flesh.”
I stand up from leaning against the nurses’ station and walk over to shake his hand and introduce myself.
“Derek Hughes. I was one of the firefighters there, yeah. Was just coming by to see how she was doing and drop something off. I went back into the house to get something for her.”
He shakes my hand and nods, his grip firm as he narrows his eyes and introduces himself.
“Officer Brady. That’s nice of you, Derek, but I’m afraid Elisabeth’s already been discharged. You just missed her, actually. I interviewed her last night but didn’t get all the information I needed. Came back today, hoping to talk to her again, but no luck.”
Fuck! I shout internally. How am I supposed to get her the damned letter now? Get one of the nurses to give me her phone number? That’s going to be a tall order.
I sigh. “Oh, that’s too bad. If she’s left, she must be doing all right, though, so that’s a good thing.”
He nods and hums, looking down at his notepad with a frown.
“Suppose so, though I still need to get some more information from her. I guess it’ll have to wait.”
I nod back and turn to Amber, who shrugs and smiles apologetically, standing from the computer chair.
“Sorry, Derek.”
“It’s all good,” I say with a smile. “Maybe I’ll give you a call later?”
She smiles at me and rubs her hand up my arm, squeezing my shoulder with a wink.
“Please do. Lisa and I are having drinks after our shift, but I’m sure we could make room for one more?”
She turns to Lisa, who smirks back and nods, walking off with a flip of her ponytail.
“How can I say no to that?”
I flash her a flirty grin and turn back to Officer Brady, who’s pulling something out of his pocket. He hands me his card, pulls out a pen, and starts writing on the back of it.
“Here,” he says sternly. “Here’s my card. My office number is on there, but I put my cell number on the back. Give me a call if you find anything else out or get any more information about the fire.”
I take his card and stuff it into my back pocket, confusion washing over my face as I look back at him.
“Oh, okay, sure, bud. Why, though? Seems pretty straight forward to me.”
He laughs and shakes his head, cocking his brow as he turns to leave.
“You’d think so,” he taps his head, “but that’s why I’m the cop and you’re the firefighter. We’ve got reason to believe that the fire wasn’t accidental. So, like I said, any info would be appreciated.”
“Oh, shit, I had no idea.” I raise my brows and nod, giving him a quick salute goodbye. “Will do, Officer.”
He waves me off and leaves, leaving me standing there at the nurses’ station.
I decide there’s no use standing around here in this virus pit. I may as well get home and catch a few hours of shut-eye before I give the girls a call. If my previous dates with them are any indication, I’m going to need a hell of a lot of energy come go time.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELISABETH
I sigh, sitting on the patio and drinking my latte, letting my head fall into my hands as I drag my fingers over my face.
I saw this place nearby after I left the hospital. Having had a rough night and morning, it seemed like the perfect place to stop in and decompress. I’m glad I did, because right now, I’m not in the best frame of mind.
Why did it have to happen this way? I really wasn’t planning on a police officer coming to snoop around and ask me a bunch of questions, especially not while I was in the actual hospital.
To say I was nervous when I saw him walk into my room and tell me he needed to ask me a few things was an understatement. How was I supposed to know the fire would get so out of control so quickly?
So, not only am I stressing about the cops, but I can’t stop thinking about my mother, either. She’s sick, can’t afford treatment, and without said treatment, she’ll die.
Sure, we haven’t had the best relationship throughout our lives, but that doesn’t mean I want her dead. She is my mother, after all. I want to help in any way that I can. I’m no doctor. Obviously, I can’t give her the treatment that she needs, so I figured the least I can do as her daughter is to help her pay for it.
Insurance fraud—It’d be easy, I thought. I’d set a small enough fire I could quickly put out, but big enough I could collect a hefty amount from the insurance company. That way, I could help pay for her treatment and then maybe my mother and I could reconnect, have the sort of relationship we never had before. This could be our second chance! I’d dreamed.
What I hadn’t planned on was how quickly the fire spread and got out of control. One minute I’m on the couch, the next I’m waking up coughing, smoke and flames everywhere, being carried out by Sir Big Arms.
Maybe starting a fire in my house in an attempt to get insurance money for her treatment wasn’t the smartest idea, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. That’s the distinction. Now though, I’m just trying to figure out what my next steps are going to be and how I’m going to stop that cop from nosing around. I’ve still got to be able to help my mother, too.
My head’s about to explode from it all.
I think ol’ George is onto me, or at least has a suspicion. The last thing I need is for him to do any more investigating and discover I set the fire myself. That would ruin everything, including any chance I have at reconnecting with Mom.
I feel my chest tighten. I sigh, closing my eyes for a brief moment in an attempt to calm myself as I think about what my mother said in her letter and how much trouble she’s been having. There’s something to be said about finding out your mother is terminally ill and needs help she can’t possibly afford. It guts you in a way few things can—rearranges your entire mindset.
I should have grabbed the letter when I got out of the house. I did ask that firefighter who carried me out to get the letter for me. Actually, I begged him, but that’s beside the point. Something tells me he didn’t get it. I can’t really blame him, to be honest. Who wants to run into a burning house to get a piece of paper? Still, it would be nice if he had. Not that I’ve got any way to find him. Maybe I should ask around, ’cause if that letter made it through the fire and was found by anyone else, it could provide evidence or motive for me setting the fire to collect the money. That would be bad with a capital B.
My heart starts to thud in my chest, dread washing over me as I realize I could actually be facing serious issues with the police here, even jail. I let my head fall into my hands on the table.
No, I can’t think like this. I have to stay positive. Otherwise I’m going to spiral out of control and this whole thing will turn into a huge mess. If only I had some way of getting in touch with that firefighter without alerting the police.
I raise my head up off of the table and, as fate would have it, I see just the person I need to talk to.
There he is, right in front of me, strutting out of the hospital like he’s on a mission.
He happens to glance over my way and I flag him down, waving over to him and smiling.
He sees me and flashes me a grin, turns my way and walks over to the table.
I look up to the sky and smile. Praise Be.
My heart skips a beat when he arrives. My nerves are shot thinking about how I’m going to get through this. At least the guy I need to talk to is easy on the eyes, right?
“Hey you,” he says with a smirk as he sits down at the table across from me. “You’re certainly looking better than the last time I saw
you.”
I smile back at him and nod with a sigh, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Well, given that I was unconscious and being carried out of a burning house, it wouldn’t take a whole lot.”
He laughs and tilts his head, eyes squinting playfully as he quips back crossing his arms over his chest.
“Fair enough, you’ve got me there. Still,” he says, eyes not-so-subtly looking me up and down, “you’re looking good, especially given the circumstances.”
Wow, this guy wastes no time, huh?
“Thanks. Look, I never got a chance to say thank you before. I was so out of it, and well, you know, it was crazy. So, thanks.”
Very articulate, Beth.
I take a breath and smile nervously, leaning forward on the table to try and restart my apology, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.
“I’m glad you waved me down, actually,” he says with a grin as he reaches into his pocket. “I have something of yours.”
No.
My eyes go wide and I can’t help the giant smile spreading across my face as he pulls out a charred piece of paper from his pocket, the corners frayed and blackened.
The letter. He got the damn letter.
“Oh my God, you actually got it?”
He laughs and slides it across the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks his brow at me.
“I did. It wasn’t easy, but I got it. I nearly burnt through my gloves, but yeah, I got it. For you,” he adds.
He stares at me from across the table and I smile back, tucking the letter into my pocket.
I put it on thicker than I intend to. “Thank you, so much. I don’t know what I can ever to do repay you for this. I can’t thank you enough.”
He smirks again, his eyes dancing with something I can’t quite place as he leans forward and slides his hand over to mine, fingertips grazing mine ever so slightly.
“Actually,” he purrs, “there is something you can do for me.”
I look back at him nervously, unsure of what he’s going to say or ask. I cautiously smile, my voice low.
“Okay, what’s that?”
“Let me take you out. Let’s have a drink.”
I laugh, disbelief and shock washing over me as I process what he’s just asked me.
Is this guy serious? Just yesterday he carried me out of a burning building—not to mention he was sort of a dick to me the entire time—and now he’s asking me out on a date? What sort of game is he playing here? Not to mention the way this guy strung Ana along before. I be a really shitty friend if I went out with him.
Not a good idea. Just tell him and be done with it.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, pulling my hand back and fidgeting with my fingernails, “I don’t think that would be wise.”
He laughs and shrugs as he leans forward again, persistent in his quest.
“Oh, come on Beth, why not? One good reason.”
“Well, it’s just not a good time right now. With everything with the fire, and—“
He cuts me off again and places his hand over mine, squeezing it gently. I look back at him incredulously. I can’t believe the words that come out of his mouth.
“Exactly, the fire. Don’t you think you owe me? I literally ran into a burning building for you. Twice. I saved your life, and I went back for that,” he says, nodding at my pocket holding the letter. I half expect him to snatch it away like a small child until he gets what he wants.
His overly cocky demeanor is really setting something off in me. Who does this guy think he is? Is he seriously going to use the fire and him doing his job to guilt me into having drinks with him? What sort of asshole is he? Sounds like Ana really dodged a bullet with this one.
My first reaction is to pull my hand away from him and tell him to never talk to me again, but then something occurs to me. I stop myself.
I’ve been sitting here half-panicked, wondering if my plan is going to work out or if I’m going to have to deal with the police. This guy, entitled ego-fest or not, could be the key to finding out exactly what I’m dealing with. The police and the firefighters work pretty closely together in cases like this. Maybe going out with him will give me some insight into what I’m actually up against here.
I play out the hypothetical in my head. Let’s say I meet up with him, we have a drink or two and discuss what happened. I pretend to swoon and fawn over him, causing him to let his guard down and give me some info on what the police are doing. I act all concerned and ‘damsel in distress’ like, he reassures me with what information he has.
It might just work.
So I sigh and smile back at him reluctantly, tilting my head.
“Okay, one drink, but that’s it.”
He chuckles and grins, cockiness and pride practically oozing out of his every pore, like he knew all along he’d be able to charm me into a date.
“Sure. One drink… to start with. Though I won’t be upset if you want to stay for another one. Or two. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m very likeable.”
Jesus. H. Who is this guy?
I smile and roll my eyes, shaking my head at him as I take my hand back and sip from my cup.
Alright, so I’ve got a ‘date’ with the cute guy who carried me out of my burning house. Best case scenario: I get some information I can use. Worst case scenario? I enjoy a free drink or two with attractive frat boy-cum-firefighter here and call it a day.
What could go wrong?
…Right?
CHAPTER FIVE
DEREK
“What will you have?” I turn to Beth as she slides onto the wooden bar stool. It wobbles and she sways a little, grabbing the bar in front of her. I instinctively reach for her elbow, steadying her.
Oh yes, this woman needs me.
For a brief second, I rethink this whole drink thing, considering she just got out of the hospital and maybe shouldn’t be drinking. She might be too weak. But then again, she’s a big girl, she could’ve said no… Well, definitively.
Her eyes meet mine as my hand lingers, and for a moment I feel like she’s going to melt into me.
Or vice versa.
The intensity of her deep blue eyes takes my breath away. They’d drown me if I was a weaker man, all cobalt and color.
“Rum. Rum and coke, please,” she turns to the bartender, patiently waiting for us to order. “Make it top shelf. He’s buying.” She smirks confidently and straightens her shoulders.
There’s the feisty woman I carried in my arms.
“And for you?” The bartender nods his head towards me.
“Beer. Whatever’s on tap.”
He leaves us to go make our drinks. I turn my attention back to Beth.
“Just a beer? I thought you wanted to go for a drink?” she teases.
“Rum and coke, huh? That’s a strong drink for a damsel who was just rescued by her knight in shining armor.” I wink and turn my body to face hers.
“A knight in shining armor?” she laughs. “Ha! Someone thinks highly of himself.” She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, keeping her attention towards the bar, never once turning to me.
But I can tell she’s aching for my gaze, my touch, or maybe just my attention.
She can have all three if she plays nice.
“No one has complained or told me otherwise. To most, I’m what they call a ‘hero.’” The bartender places our drinks in front of us and I hand him my card, cutting him off before he tells us the tab. “Keep it open.”
She shakes her head and brings the drink to her mouth. “Wow, you really are a cocky son-of-a-bitch.” I watch as her tongue curls around the tiny red straw, pulling it into her mouth.
My dick springs up wanting nothing more than to be that damn straw.
Fuck me.
It’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to grab her, bend her over the pool table, and make her repeat her new nickname for me, louder. I like the sound of it better than the usual ‘daddy’ or �
��God.’ Son-of-a-bitch is far more fitting.
If it was any other chick, the thought of me saving them in my firefighter gear would have them on their knees, thanking me over and over.
But not Beth here.
“So, you’re saying you don’t like your men in uniform? Perhaps, out of uniform is your preference?” I take a swig of my beer and watch as her body reacts to the image I’m drawing for her.
Her ass squirms against the chair, and if I’m not mistaken—seeing as I do know a thing or two about women and their erogenous zones—rubbing off some friction.
Let her.
I press my lips together, fighting a smile from splitting my face in two.
“I like a man with manners. One who knows how to treat a woman, not just handle her,” she jabs. Her voice strained. I’m not certain if she’s annoyed with me or if she’s trying to stifle her desire.
I’ll pretend it’s the latter.
This hard-to-get act is something I’ve never had to deal with before. I’ve never had to work so damn hard. I mean, I saved her, went back into the fire and got her precious letter, persuaded her to go out with me, and yet she still swats me away.
Most of the time women see me in a uniform and automatically drool. I’m the type of man they put on their calendars and stare at while masturbating to the month of July, coincidently, the hottest month of the year.
But this frustratingly, hot-ass girl won’t even purchase the calendar, let alone give it a second glace.
Strangely, I like it. I like fighting for her while also watching her squirm and deny her attraction to me. Plus, I’ve heard that when you finally earn the prize after all that work, it feels and tastes so much sweeter.
“What if a man can do both? Treat while handle?” I test her.
“That doesn’t exist. Men like yourself only have one thing on their minds. And it has nothing to do with ‘treating’ a woman.” Her eyebrow arches as if challenging me. “They only want their egos stroked.” She smiles condescendingly and finishes the rest of her drink.
