Breaking Protocol (Firehouse Fourteen Book 3) (7 page)

Stillness had descended over the colorful room, muting the bright colors with an air of tension, of expectation. Of anxiety and accusation. Dave sat on the edge of the overstuffed chair, absurdly feeling like he was being sucked into it.

Like he had been sucked into this nightmare so many months ago.

He looked down at the clasped hands hanging between his legs, the knuckles pale and tight. He took a deep breath and held it, then released it slowly as he tried to relax his hands.

"Here. It looks like you could use this."

CC held out a glass tumbler filled with dark amber liquid. He reached up to take it from her, somewhat surprised to see the slight shaking of his hand. If she saw it, she didn't say anything, just gave him the glass and took a seat in the matching chair next to his.

Dave lifted the glass to his mouth and took a long swallow, grimacing as the heat of the strong brandy seared his throat and hit his stomach with a fiery punch. He wasn't usually a brandy drinker but he wasn't about to turn down a shot of anything strong.

The police had left about thirty minutes ago, after doing a cursory search around the place and asking him questions. They took notes, asked more questions, looked around some more. One of the officers—there had been five of them, which had surprised him at first—had called Dave's friend to verify that he had reported similar incidents in the past.

Yes, he had reported them.

No, not all of them.

The last incident? Dave couldn't help the short laugh that had escaped him when he answered. Yesterday morning.

Through it all, CC had remained quiet, leaning against the wall, her arms folded in front of her as she watched him. She had changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

And a huge fucking .45 Glock strapped to her hip that looked like it would knock her on her ass if she fired it. But not before it put a hole the size of a cannon into whatever fool made the mistake of crossing her.

Because she was a cop. Something Dave had forgotten. Yes, she was a Flight Medic. But she was, first and foremost, a cop.

He took another swallow of the brandy then swirled the glass in his hands, staring down into the dark liquid, watching as it briefly clung to the sides of the glass before drifting down.

He knew he needed to leave, needed to go home and do—well, he wasn't entirely certain what he needed to do, but he knew there was something.

Go buy a new phone.

And a pair of new shoes while he was it, since his other ones had been taken as evidence. Evidence of what, he didn't know, since the officers had told him they didn't think they'd find out who was behind this.

But they'd try, and get back to him.

And they
would
try. Because CC was one of them, and this had happened here, at her house.

Because of him.

"Shit." He raised the glass, thought better of it, then leaned forward and sat it on the coffee table. He ran his hands through his hair then glanced at CC. She was still sitting in the chair, her legs curled beneath her, watching him. "I'm sorry."

Her brows arched, either in surprise or in question, Dave didn't know. She took a sip of her own drink, her gaze never leaving his. "You're sorry for...?"

He wanted to look away from those clear bright eyes, afraid she'd see too much. But he didn't, he couldn't. "For all of it. For allowing this to happen here. For bringing you into it. For embarrassing you in front of your friends. For making them wonder what I was even doing here, so early in the morning."

CC watched him for a second, took another sip, then leaned forward and placed her glass next to his. When she looked back up at him, one corner of her mouth was tilted in a hint of a smile. "Wow, that's a lot to be sorry about."

"Well, I am."

"Hm. Why don't we start with point one?  First, you didn't 'allow' this. That implies that you knew some whack doodle was going to show up here while you knowingly looked the other way while he did what he did. Second, you didn't bring me into this, the whack doodle did." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she held her hand up in warning and leaned closer. "Third and fourth, what in the world do I have to be embarrassed about, and why would I care what any of them might think about you being here?"

"I—" Dave snapped his mouth closed, not knowing what to say. Any other person would be upset, or angry, or even a little fearful, if not outright scared. And they'd have every right to be. Hell, even he was worried about what was going on, because of the unknown of the entire situation. He couldn't believe that the woman sitting next to him was taking this whole thing in stride. "I can't believe none of this upsets you."

"I never said I wasn't upset." She briefly pursed her lips, then leaned over and placed a hand on his arm. "But I'm not upset with
you
." She squeezed his arm then leaned over and grabbed his drink, handing it to him before she took hers.

He wanted to ask her what upset her, because to his eyes, at least, she didn't look the least bit upset. But she must have read his mind because she shifted in the chair and tilted her head, watching him.

"I know. I don't look upset. Trust me, I am. Some psycho was creeping around my house in the middle of the night, and I didn't even know it. That bothers me."

"I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should have never even come here."

"Let me ask you a question. Has your stalker ever followed you anywhere before? Left you notes like this anywhere else?"

A chill danced along his spine when he heard the word 'stalker'. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew it was true. Something had changed, making this escalate from harassment to something much more sinister.

And he felt completely, utterly helpless and unprepared to deal with it.

CC was watching him and he realized he still hadn't answered her question. He shook his head. "No, never. Nothing like this. I told you, it's just been the text messages, all saying essentially the same thing."

"That you know of." It was a statement, not a question, and the implication sent icy shards through him.

"Yeah. That I know of. And now he knows where you live." Dave put his glass on the table then pushed himself out of the chair, the brandy forming a sour pool of acid in his gut. "I need to leave. I'm sorry."

CC's hand snaked out and closed around his wrist, stopping him. She stood up, standing closer to him, her hand sliding down until her fingers threaded through his. Her eyes were soft, understanding.

And he couldn't understand why.

"Where are you going?"

"Home, which is where I should have stayed last night."

"I see." Her fingers squeezed his then let go, but she didn't move away, just kept looking up at him. "And is that number five?"

"Five?" Dave shook his head, not understanding.

"Yeah. The fifth thing you're sorry about. Coming here last night."

How was he supposed to answer that? Hell no, he wasn't sorry about their time spent together. But he was sorry as hell that he had brought this mess, literally, to her door. Would he do it all over again, knowing what he knew now? The answer should be no, he wouldn't. But he didn't know if he could say that and still be honest. Not with memories of last night, of this morning, so clear in his mind.

"CC, if I hadn't come here last night, you wouldn't have been involved. So yeah, I wish I would have just stayed home."

"I see. But, are you sorry about what happened?"

"Between us? No. No, I'm not sorry about that."

"Good. Neither am I." Her lips widened in a smile as she fisted her hand in his shirt and pulled him down, closer, until her lips pressed against his. He held himself still for the space of a heartbeat, certain they were both crazy, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer.

The kiss was too short, yet he was still breathing heavy when she pulled away.

"Well, then. Let's get you home." She smiled up at him again then started walking away, leaving Dave staring after her in confusion. She was almost out of the room when he finally found his voice.

"What do you mean, 'us'?"

She looked over her shoulder, her long hair swinging against her back. "Just what I said. I'm the one with the gun, remember?"

"Yeah. I do now. But that doesn't mean—"

"You don't have a choice in the matter, Big Guy, okay?"

"But—"

"No buts. Gun, remember?"

He gritted his teeth, knowing he was losing the argument and not sure why. Hell, he wasn't even sure what the argument was. His mind whirled, searching for something, anything, to sway her from following him home. He didn't need her there, didn't want to drag her into his own personal mess any more than he already had. In desperation, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, something completely senseless and inane.

"About that gun. If you were a guy, I'd ask what you were over-compensating for."

Whatever reaction he hoped for, it wasn't her sudden laughter. He gritted his teeth again, knowing he had already lost the battle. Probably before it even started.

"You've already seen everything I have, Big Guy. I guess you can answer better than I if I'm compensating for anything. As for the gun, don't worry. I just like how it freaks people out when they see it. It amuses me."

She winked then walked out of the room, leaving him staring after her, his jaw still clenched and his face heating in embarrassment.

It amused her to freak people out. Dave knew he should be surprised, but he wasn't. He had only just met her, but already learned that she thrived on the unexpected.

And yeah, on top of everything else that had happened in the last thirty-six hours, it freaked him out a bit to realize he already knew that about her.

The air in the hangar was cool. The scent of early autumn mixed with the saltier brackish smell of the nearby water, adding a slight tang to the air. CC breathed in deeply, inhaling the crisp air as her boot steps echoed against the concrete floor. She loved this time of year, the crisp air and rich colorful scents. Her dad's voice rang in the back of her mind, calling her nuts, telling her you couldn't see smells, and she almost smiled.

Almost.

But she had too much on her mind right now to spare time thinking about home and her parents. She missed them, missed her brothers, and knew she was overdue for a visit.

But she didn't have time to spare for that right now, either.

She climbed into the passenger compartment of the helicopter, scooting in on her butt, then began her daily inspection. The routine was soothing, familiar, almost as natural as breathing. Equipment checks, inventory, the act of checking to make sure everything was where it should be.

Just as she liked it.

She ran down the list, checking each item off, both on paper and in her mind. One last look around, just to be sure she didn't miss anything, then she scrawled her signature at the bottom of the sheet and climbed down.

She'd file this, then catch up on her other reports. That was the one thing she hated the most: paperwork. No matter how much time she spent on it, there always seemed to be more waiting. Probably because that was the one thing she couldn't seem to do quickly, no matter how much time she allowed herself.

Of course, even she admitted that it wouldn't take quite so long to do if she actually filled out the paperwork, instead of staring at the reports and letting her mind wander aimlessly until she lost all track of time. At least she was honest enough with herself to admit that she wasn't a paperwork kind of person. Never had been, probably never would be.

She pushed through the swinging doors that connected the hangar to the office and living quarters, then turned into the radio room and tossed the clipboard on the desk. She crossed the hall into the small area that passed for a breakroom and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

Tony Fordham, her partner and pilot, looked up from the newspaper and watched her. "Heard you had some excitement at your place the other night."

"Of course you did. Heaven forbid anything remain a secret around this place. And they say women gossip." She offered him a smile as she took a sip of the strong coffee then sat at the table across from him. "So what was the story by the time you heard it? Mutilated bodies? Sex orgies? Murder and mayhem?"

Tony laughed, folding the paper neatly in half before tossing it to the middle of the table. "Nah. Just heard that some psycho left a threatening note on your porch, but that it was meant for your 'friend'."

"Wow, not bad. I figured it would have been exaggerated into something more exciting by now." CC reached for the paper, pointedly ignoring Tony's questioning look. Less than a minute went by before he pulled the paper away and fixed her with a steady gaze from his cool green eyes.

"So you want to share the details?"

"Not particularly, no."

Tony tugged harder on the paper, finally pulling it away from her. "That's not going to fly with me and you know it. Spill it. Who's the guy?"

CC rolled her eyes then took another sip of coffee. "He's a paramedic with the county."

"And?"

"And what? And nothing."

"Really?" He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "And he just happened to come visiting at seven in the morning, hm?"

"What can I say? He's an early riser." CC mentally flinched at her choice of words, a vivid image clearly forming in her mind of just how much of an early riser Big Guy really was.

"Holy shit, you're blushing!"

"I am not, now hush."

"Yes, you are. Your cheeks are all pink and blotchy. That's definitely a blush."

"No, it's not. It's irritation from you bugging me."

"Hmm-mm. So, does this guy have a name? Where'd you meet him? How long have you known him?"

"What is this, the third degree? You're worse than my brother."

"I'm your surrogate brother, so start talking."

CC turned in her seat and grabbed for the paper, deliberately ignoring him. She knew it wouldn't work, but there was no way she was going to answer Tony's questions.

Especially not the one about how long she'd known Dave. No way. Because the answer just sounded all wrong and she'd never hear the end of it.

"Fine. I'll drop it for now. Tell me about this threatening note."

CC dropped the paper to the table with a sigh, knowing she'd get no chance to read it until answering at least a few of Tony's questions. She shook her head. Not in refusal to answer, but rather in hesitation, trying to figure out how to explain.

On the surface, the note and texts were disturbing, which was bad enough. But underneath, there was something more sinister, something that sent a chill racing along her spine. But she couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't even begin to explain it. It was just something she
felt
.

"It really wasn't that bad." CC felt some irrational need to downplay it. "It was just a handwritten note on a piece of poster board.
I know what you did
. Whoever left it splashed paint on it, making it look like blood."

Tony's expression hardened, his blue eyes going cold as the muscle in his jaw ticked. He watched her in silence then shook his head, anger clear on his weathered face. "And this note was left on your back porch? In the middle of the night? While you were home?"

Okay, so maybe it sounded as bad as it was. But she wasn't about to admit to Tony how much seeing it had rattled her. Yes, she could admit to herself it had freaked her out a bit. More than a bit. Someone had been next to her house, actually on her screened-in porch. And she hadn't even known. That freaked her out almost more than the note itself.

"I think maybe you should stay away from this guy. Sounds like he's deep into something you want no parts of."

"Not happening." CC shook her head, just in case Tony didn't understand the words. Her partner could be stubborn when he wanted to be. "I like him. Besides, I'm kind of already involved, since it was my house and all."

"Then get uninvolved. What kind of guy would willingly drag a woman into his trouble? Not one you want to be with, I'll tell you that much."

"Tony, it's not like that. From what he said, he's been getting text messages for eight months, and this is the first time anything like this has happened."

"Yeah, from what he said. You don't know what he hasn't been telling you. For all you know, this guy could be doing it himself. Or something."

"He's not."

"And how do you know that? Wait, let me guess, you just do."

"Knock it off. And don't make fun of me and my feelings. Sometimes I do just know."

"One of these days, you're going to be wrong. And then what?"

"Then I use my .45 and won't have to worry about it."

"You know, sometimes I think you just have a death wish. You're not happy unless your courting trouble or danger or whatever the hell it is that gets your blood pumping."

CC narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know that they were not having this conversation. Again. Yes, she liked adventure. No, she didn't have a death wish. She had been there, done that, had no desire to go there again, thank you very much.

Tony narrowed his own eyes at her, starting one of their occasional staring matches, two strong-willed people not daring to give an inch. Fortunately, her phone rang, giving her an excuse to look away.

"'Lo?"

"It's Rob. I've got that information you asked for."

"Bubby! Wow, that was fast."

Her brother's heavy sigh came through the phone and she could clearly imagine him rolling his eyes. Or reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Or both.

"Stop calling me that. I'm not twelve anymore. And neither are you." He paused. "Carolann."

CC scowled into the phone then pushed away from the table. She didn't want to have this conversation in front of Tony. And she didn't want to get into a game of one-upmanship with her older brother so she ignored his use of her full name, spoken with an exaggerated drawl.

"Tell me what you got." CC walked out of the hangar and squinted in the bright sun, then pulled her sunglasses down to shield her eyes.

"Tell me again who this guy is to you."

CC rolled her eyes. "A friend."

Silence greeted her answer and CC did her best not to huff in impatience. If Bubby's heavy sigh was any indication, she hadn't been very successful.

"Hm. Well, your friend is squeaky clean. Nothing in here that you wouldn't have been able to find out yourself. Exemplary service record, a couple of commendations. Honorable discharge from the Reserves, came out as an E6. Nothing out of the ordinary." She heard the sound of his fingers clicking against a keyboard in the background. "You going to tell me again why you wanted me to check?"

"Just curious, that's all."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with those police reports that popped up when I checked, would it?"

CC grimaced, glad her brother couldn't see her face. Damn him. But she should have known he'd look deeper when she asked him to check on Dave's record. Not his public record. Bubby was right, she could access that if she wanted to do. No, she was curious about any not-so-public record, something that might explain why he was receiving these threats.

And Bubby could access things that didn't exist.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" He paused, and CC knew that he was definitely pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. But she didn't say anything, unwilling to admit anything. "Of course, you already know about that. So what are you looking for?"

"A connection."

"This one of your hunches?"

"No, more than a hunch." Like insider information, coming straight from the Big Guy himself when he told her more about some of the text messages he received. "Anything in there on his time in Helmand Province?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. He was in the middle of it, no doubt. As a medic, I'm sure he saw a lot of things. Probably things he doesn't want to talk about." She heard his underlying accusation loud and clear, knowing that both he and her younger brother were still worried because she had never talked about her time over there. But she had no intention of getting into that with him right now.

"Well, there's got to be a connection to his time there. I just don't know how to make the dots all line up."

"What's your friend say?"

"He doesn't know how to make the dots line up either." She paused, weighing her thoughts carefully, knowing she had to watch every word she said to her brother. "I think that whoever's leaving these messages blames him for something that happened over there."

"Doesn't take a detective to figure that one out, CC."

"No, guess not." So much for being subtle. But she shouldn't be surprised. Bubby didn't do subtle. "Don't suppose there's a way to pull a list of patients, soldiers, he came in contact with over there."

"That would be one hell of a lot of names, CC. You'd be better off asking your friend if anything stuck out in his mind."

"Nothing does."

"I don't know what to tell you. And as for your oh-so-subtle question, don't ask, because it's not happening."

CC swallowed her disappointment. Not that she expected to hear anything different—even she knew something like that would be next to impossible to find. Not to mention that it would be a risk to Bubby if he started digging through so many files, classified or not.

"When are you coming home? Mom says she can't remember what you look like, it's been so long."

"Wow. Guilt trip, much? It hasn't been that long."

"Long enough. You should call her, let her know when you're coming down."

"I will. Maybe in a few weeks. I've got some vacation time I need to use up anyway."

"Hm. Do yourself a favor and don't phrase it like that when you talk to her, okay? And CC?"

"Yeah?"

"Just watch yourself."

"Always." She smiled into the phone then disconnected the call before her brother could make a sarcastic comeback. Because he would. As her big brother, he felt it was his familial duty to keep her firmly grounded, and he wielded sarcasm with an expert tongue.

She tucked the phone back into her pocket then stretched her legs out and tilted her head back, staring at nothing while her mind worked.

Her Big Guy was in trouble, only he didn't want to admit how much. Probably not even to himself. And whatever was going on had the potential of turning into, as they say, a real shit storm.

Any sane person would just walk away, as far and as fast as they could, putting as much distance as possible between them and potential trouble. She had just met Dave, there was no reason she shouldn't be hightailing it in the other direction already. She didn't really know him, certainly didn't owe him anything.