Bad Boy's Kiss (Firemen in Love Book 2) (2 page)

Oh, Lord. They were
kissing
each other! I couldn't believe my eyes. We had two gorgeous babes making out in the backseat of our truck! The guys were gonna be super
jealous.

“Brett.” I whispered, afraid to interrupt them. “Look. It's beautiful.”

“There's Columbus Ave. You're gonna miss the turn!”

Operating on instinct, I slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel like I was the Titanic trying to avoid an iceberg. The truck whipped around the corner, fishtailing from left to right. For a moment, we tilted and the tires left pavement.

“Oh my God! What's happening?”

“Hit the brakes, Max,” Brett screamed. “Hit the –”

Some vehicle smashed into the back of the truck and spun out to the side of the road. It didn't hurt us, but I had no time to react before we careened off the street and jumped the curb onto the sidewalk. The truck collided with some building, plunging straight through the plate-glass window with a horrific noise.

I'd been in many burning buildings, but that sound was nothing compared to this. Glass furiously shattered all around us, large chunks of it hailing down upon our windshield. The shop's metal shelves crumpled like paper beneath the truck's weight.

At last, we came to a stop. The girls, panicked and terrified, cried for help. Brett, shaking, looked at me with wide eyes.

“What the hell happened? Is anyone hurt?”

Nobody was – in the truck, anyway. I left Brett with the women and hurried outside. The path of destruction I'd left, it looked as if a tornado had swept through. Splintered benches, trees knocked over, a fire hydrant gushing a geyser twenty feet in the air...

I followed the trail and soon found the car that hit me in a ditch. The front of the vehicle reminded me of a crunched-up soda can. Smoke poured from the hood, the wisps curling threateningly in the wind.

The driver groaned with pain. He leaned against the steering wheel, a ribbon of crimson dribbling from his forehead.

Shit.

“Hey, man. I'm gonna get you out of there, okay?”

He grunted as I flung open the door. When I tried to pull him out, he howled in agony.

“No! My leg, it's... It hurts,” he cried.

Brett and the girls emerged from the wreckage. Candy was visibly limping.

In the distance, sirens sounded. An ambulance would be here soon, along with the police. Good news for the injured guy. Not so good news for us.

Or rather, me.

I was the one driving. I was the one who'd had too much to drink, who drove a firetruck at top speed through busy streets while ogling the girls I'd picked up at a bar in the backseat.

I knew what it meant. There was only one thing it
could
mean for me – and to be honest, I deserved it.

My career as a firefighter was over.

Chapter 2 - Max

“I'm gonna have to let you go, Max.”

Hank stared out the window as he said it. Bastard couldn't even bother looking me in the eye.

I kicked my chair away and slammed a fist down on his desk. Probably not the wisest move in my boss's office, but I was pissed.

“Let me
go?
I've been with the department for five years! I'm a hard worker, Hank. You know that.”

He offered me a thin smile. “Unfortunately, that's not enough to smooth over the incident last week.”

My stomach churned. I knew this was coming. That night when I crashed the truck through Peabody's Antique Shop had been the worst of my life. Every waking moment, I kept replaying the accident over and over. Beating myself up over it. Over my failure.

I
hated
to fail.

“You destroyed thousands of dollars of public property. Totaled several vehicles. Sent a man to the hospital.”

Sweat beaded on my brow. “Yeah, I know, but... He was okay, right? I didn't kill the guy.”

“He had a concussion, a busted nose, and a broken leg. Guess who's responsible for his doctor bills?” Hank shook his head. “You cost us a lot of money, Max.”

I was running out of avenues of defense fast. Wonder why I even bothered. Hank was the boss man, and I knew him pretty well. Once he'd set his mind on something, that was it. Nothing could change it.

“Not only that,” he continued. “You were out drinking at a bar when you should have been doing your damn job.”

I couldn't defend myself against that. Brett tried to talk sense into me, didn't he? But I just had to stay for one more beer. Once I got going, it was hard to stop – not like that was any good excuse.

Hank continued to catalog the night's events for me. “The cops came. You were arrested for driving while intoxicated.”

I gave a weak laugh. “Intoxicated? Bullshit. It was only a couple of beers.”

“Your blood-alcohol content was way over the legal limit.”

Oh, wait. Now I remembered those tequila shots Joe gave us, on the house. How could I say no to that?

Why did he have to rub it in? Like it wasn't humiliating enough, being led away from the scene of an accident in handcuffs. I mean, I had been arrested before for dumb stuff, but the look on Brett's face as they pushed me into a cop car...

Hank rifled through some paperwork on his computer. I didn't want to hear anymore. What was the point? Might as well go home, get totally smashed, and pass out in front of the TV. Today, tonight, and every day after that.

If I didn't have this job anymore – if I lacked a purpose, something to keep me going – that was exactly what would happen.

I'd been there before. Aimless. Lost. Drifting, like a piece of trash in the sea, blowing wherever the wind takes it. My mind was in a dark place then. I didn't want to fall down that hole again.

“There's more here,” Hank murmured. “Apparently, you also had two half-naked, drunk women in the back of the truck. Care to explain that one?”

Boy, what a disaster that was. So much for my grand plan of scoring that night. Guess when you get hauled away by the cops, girls tend to be less than impressed.

“What's there to explain?” I shrugged. “They were at the bar and needed a ride. Isn't that our job? To serve our local community?”

“A ride.” He scoffed. “Yes, I bet they did.”

“Look, Hank. I made some mistakes. Yeah, I'll admit it. But it's nothing we can't work around, is it? Just put me on probation or something.”

His jaw set. “We've already done that. Twice. I told you if something like this happened one more time, you were done. You
knew
that.”

I hated the way he talked to me, like I was some bratty teenager and he was gonna take away my car keys. Anger boiled inside me, but I couldn't let it out, not this time. Adding assault charges to my record was the dumbest thing I could do right now.

“You're giving the Waco Fire Department a bad name, son. Your little 'incident' was all over the news and the internet too. They got video of our truck, crashed through the front of a store. People are talking, and it's not good.”

Desperation was not something I often felt or would ever admit to. Right now, thought, I
was
desperate. I needed to keep this job. Not just for the money.

If Hank let me go, what other point did my life have?

“Man, please.” I clamped my hand down on his shoulder. “I'll do anything. You want me to pay off the guy's hospital bills? Fine. I'll make a public apology on TV if need be.”

Hank jerked away from me. “Sorry, Max. If we don't let you go, it'll look bad for us. The public will see us as corrupt, willing to sweep just about anything under the rug for one of our own.”

“If you ask me, that's how it should be. We're family, aren't we?”

He looked out the window again. His lip wavered.

“Gather your things and leave, please. You'll get your last check in the mail.”

I fled from the office with a furious growl, shoving the door open so violently it put a hole in the wall behind it. Surprisingly, Hank didn't yell at me for it. He didn't even look at me.

That's what pissed me off the most.

Five years I'd given to this place, and this was how they repaid me? I made a couple of mistakes, but that was nothing compared to all the good I'd done.

I rescued people from burning buildings. Stopped flames from turning families' houses into cinders and ash. I walked through
fucking fire
to save the lives of those kids. Had scars all over my body to prove what I'd done, to show the sacrifices I was willing to make.

But all it took was a couple of slip-ups, and suddenly, those sacrifices meant nothing.

I stormed to my desk. It was covered with messes of paperwork and fast-food wrappers. A dusty photo frame perched on the corner. I picked it up and brushed away the dirt.

It was a picture of me and the boys on my twenty-third birthday a few years back. We took a trip to Vegas together; I'd never forget it. They
were
my family. My best friends.

I knew what would happen. Once I was gone, they'd eventually forget about me. Someone new would come to take my place. They'd stop calling. Stop inviting me out with them. I wouldn't matter anymore.

“Hey, Max. What's wrong, man?”

Jayce had come up behind me. God, how he'd changed this past year. Used to love partying and picking up chicks with us. We'd been friends for ages, and I was pretty sure nobody knew me better than him.

Thought he'd never change, but then he stunned us all by falling in love. Now he's a married man with a kid. No more parties, no more hunting for girls together at the clubs.

I had to admit, it was real lonely without him.

“What's wrong?” I laughed. “Hank just canned me, that's what.”

His smile faded. “Oh. For that thing last week, huh?”

“I know what you're going to say. You're gonna scold me and tell me what a screw-up I am.” I shoved my things into an empty Taco Bueno bag. “Please, don't rub it in. I already know.”

He slung an arm around my shoulders. “So you screwed up. Doesn't mean
you
are a screw-up. You just made some... pretty bad judgment calls.”

“Try telling Hank that. Asshole says he can't possibly let me stay. That it would be bad for our image or something.”

“Well, you
did
drive a truck through Derek's antique store.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And you weren't exactly sober at the time.”

“I was sober enough to get those girls in the backseat. It was gonna be awesome – the two of them, me, Brett... I mean, they were kissing all over each other! Who
wouldn't
crash their car watching a display like that?”

Jayce sighed and rubbed his temples. Normally, he would have been cheering me on. He'd have been right there in the bar with me, smooth-talking those chicks into dropping their panties with a snap of his fingers.

“You know what I'm going to say, don't you?”

“Yeah. You're gonna tell me I need to grow up and stop screwing a different girl every couple of nights. Not gonna happen, buddy.”

“I'm not telling you to settle down with one woman. Just maybe slow it down a bit, huh?”

I laughed, as if that could hide the bitterness inside me.

“I
have
slowed down. Used to get laid a lot more often when I had you as my wing man. Don't you ever miss those days?”

He fiddled with the gold wedding band on his finger. “Not really. I love Elle and Ethan more than anything in the world. They mean way more to me than some stupid one-night stand.”

“You're just saying that 'cause you forgot how awesome it was.”

“It
was
awesome – for a while. But then it just started to feel so empty and meaningless. Maybe one day, you'll feel the same.”

“I can assure you that I never will.”

The alarm sounded suddenly, making both of us jump. For a moment I moved instinctively, reaching for my jacket like I always did, ready to pounce into the truck and go put out some fires.

Then it hit me. I wasn't welcome on that truck anymore.

Jayce backed away slowly. “Guess I've got to go. Maybe I'll give you a call later and we can grab dinner or something.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I watched the guys pile into vehicles as I finished stuffing my things in the bag. Anger rose up in me when they drove away, leaving me behind. Anger – and sadness, too.

It wasn't even ten in the morning, but I sped home, fully intending to clear out all the beer in the fridge. Maybe I'd start on that bottle of vodka under the sink, if need be.

“Hank, that asshole.” I popped open a frosty Shiner Bock and sank into my easy chair. “He'll realize what an asset he's lost soon enough. Yeah, he'll be calling me back any minute now, I bet.”

Just as I flipped on the TV and took my first merciful sip of booze, the phone rang. My heart pounded. I checked the caller ID.