Come Gentle the Dawn (4 page)

“Then you weren’t stretching the truth about putting in sixty hours a week.”

“Stick around and find out.”

He rested one booted foot on the dash. “I intend to do just that.”

“Real masochist, aren’t you?”

“Nah, I’m a red-blooded American man who believes in Mom, apple pie and Corvettes.”

“Corvettes?”

He gave her an innocent look. “Sure.”

“Expensive taste.”

“Superb,” he agreed contentedly, pouring himself a cup of coffee then recapping the thermos.

“Bet you’ve never eaten any humble pie.”

His grin tore at her senses.

“I said apple pie, not humble pie.”

She joined his laughter, sensing that Tanner’s arrogance shielded a solid layer of confidence. She fervently hoped so. Maybe Chief Saxon had been right. She needed a partner who was more mature than her own twenty-nine years. Still, Tanner wasn’t exactly the answer to her dreams. He was a chauvinist of the first order, and she knew they would butt heads on just who was the boss. He was a man with secrets, possibly. She’d have to sit back, use her considerable patience and watch. With time, he’d reveal parts of his real self.

“I can tell you from lots of experience that humble pie isn’t as good as apple pie,” Brie said.

“I don’t see you eating too much of that.”

She shrugged, gazing at the rolling green countryside of Ohio. She always enjoyed the drive to and from Canton; most of it was comprised of farms, silos, dairy herds and hundreds of acres of corn. “A long time ago, when I joined the fire department in Litton out of college, I used to think I was really something.”

“What happened to change your mind about that part of yourself?”

Brie was pleased with his interest in her as a person. “Anyone ever accuse you of asking good questions?”

Linc sipped his coffee. “Not recently. Ask my ex-wife, JoAnne, that, and she’ll give you a very different answer.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned your divorce. It must be pretty fresh.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Mack trucks usually are,” Brie said, giving him a warm smile meant to take any sting from her comment.

“Guess I drove into that one, didn’t I?” Linc returned, thinking her whole face became breathtakingly beautiful when she genuinely smiled. He saw a glimmer of light in her eyes and for no reason, it made him feel good, even if the joke had been at his expense. Where are your claws, little cat? You’re a woman, and I know you have a set.

“Just shows you aren’t perfect, that’s all.”

He feigned a hurt look. “Most women think I am.”

“All except JoAnne, remember?”

Giving her a sober glance, Linc agreed. “In all honesty, it wasn’t Jo’s fault. I was gone too much of the time.”

“The fire service is tough on marriages,” Brie agreed.

Linc said nothing. In the bio given to Chief Saxon, he had been a lieutenant in a fire department for the past six years, with specialization in the field of hazardous material. For some reason, he didn’t like lying to Brie. There was a freshness to her that he’d never encountered in a woman before, and he didn’t want her to think negatively of him. At some point in the future, she would eventually be told who he really was and his reason for being with her. Linc studied her profile for several minutes, wondering how Brie would take that information. Would she hate him? Distrust him?

And then he pulled himself up short. Why should he care what she thought of him after this case was out in the open and solved? One look at her and those soft lips
curved gently upward and Linc knew why but refused to acknowledge the answer.

“Tell me, what’s a marshmallow like you doing in a job like this? It’s got to be tough on you emotionally.”

Brie pushed her fingers though her short hair, giving Linc an unsettled look. “You calling me a marshmallow?”

Linc sat back, arms across his chest. “It’s not an insult, you know. I pride myself in knowing people pretty well on first meeting. Despite your tough act, you’re basically a pretty gentle woman. The two don’t mix chemistrywise with a job like this.”

Now he was playing amateur psychologist, Brie thought, a bit of panic racing through her. No one had ever been able to see the real her beneath her uniform and title. She had never allowed anyone that privilege. And now, Linc Tanner had peeled her open, and she didn’t like it. “Even if I was that so-called marshmallow you accuse me of being, who said it matters?”

Linc treaded carefully, hearing the challenge in her voice. “Far be it from me to say a marshmallow can’t be effective in a job.”

Brie cast him a look. “That’s big of you, Tanner.”

“So you are a marshmallow.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He grinned widely, which made him look boyish suddenly, instead of hard. “If the shoe fits, wear it. In this case, you practically admitted you’re a marshmallow.”

Disgruntled, Brie pulled a map of Canton from the side pocket on her seat and handed it to him. “If you want something to do, open this up and take a look at it. It’s a map of Canton. You have to decide where you want to look for an apartment or house.”

Unfolding the map, Linc was still grinning. “What’s wrong with being a marshmallow? Did I say there was anything wrong with them? I happen to like marshmallows. They’re all soft inside. And sweet—”

“One more word out of you, Tanner, and—”

He gave her an innocent look, realizing how delightful she was to tease. “Okay, boss lady, I’ll read the map.” He pretended to study it, then after a few minutes he lifted his head and murmured, “I like hot dogs roasted over an open fire. Nothing like a few well-toasted marshmallows for dessert—”

“Tanner, you’re really bucking the odds.”

He met her flashing green eyes. “If I say I’m sorry, would that count?”

“No, because you wouldn’t mean it.”

Linc suddenly laughed. “Has anyone told you, Ms. Williams, that you’re fun to tease?”

“On second thought, you’re not a masochist. You’re a sadist.”

He had the good sense to bury his head in the map, giving Brie the space she needed from his unmerciful prodding.

Quiet settled into the van, and occasionally Brie would steal a glance at Linc. He had scrunched his well-built frame down into the seat, one foot resting lazily against the dash. She liked his ability to be laid back, and hoped that he would apply the same easygoing attitude to his dealing with haz-mat incidents.

Her heart beat hard when Linc turned his head and met her gaze with a heated look. Embarrassed that he had caught her inspecting him, Brie looked away. He could have needled her about it, but he said nothing,
thank God. When had she ever met such a self-assured male? Never, her heart whispered. Somehow, that knowledge steadied her brittle confidence.

Over the years, Brie had met many fire fighters. Some of them had that unique confidence that emanated like a beacon from Linc. But Linc’s strength, or whatever it was, was deeper, and her womanly instincts knew that. Brie smiled. She could just imagine what Tanner would say if he knew how she relied more on her gut instinct than on her so-called logic. That was all right, he’d find out soon enough. In the past three months, she’d gotten Jeff to switch to that life-saving internal equipment each person possessed.

Sadness engulfed her as Brie recalled with aching clarity that her gut instincts were screaming at her the day she and John approached the drums sitting just outside the abandoned warehouse on the seedy side of Cleveland. When the call had come in, her stomach had knotted instantly, which wasn’t normal. John had smiled, shrugging it off.

“We’ll be more careful,” he had told Brie. And they had been, parking the haz-mat truck farther away than usual and using binoculars to size up the situation. When it didn’t look dangerous, they decided to cautiously approach the freshly painted drums. Unconsciously, Brie rubbed her stomach, trying to shake off the dread that had nearly suffocated her as they walked toward them. It was only when they had changed the angle of their approach that she had spotted several red and gray wires coming out of the bottom of the center drum. The wires disappeared beneath the corrugated aluminum
wall of the warehouse wall. She had pulled John to a halt, pointing toward the wires.

They had stood there staring at the drums that were still a good hundred feet away, talking over and assessing the new development. Her stomach was knotted so hard that Brie was in pain. Her heart was galloping in her breast, and her throat was constricted.

“What’s your gut say?” John had asked softly, his hand coming to rest on her upper arm, as if preparing to pull her away from the drums.

“To get out of here. It’s not right, John. I feel real bad.”

“Okay, Brie. I’m going to keep the same distance from them and see if I can spot where those wires lead while you go back to the truck and get the nonsparking tools. This might be a job for the Cleveland bomb squad, not us. But we’re going to have to get closer to find out.”

“John, why don’t you come with me? I don’t feel good about this at all. Let’s call the police instead and let them investigate it.”

“I won’t get any closer. I promise. Now go on. Get that box of tools for us.”

Brie closed her eyes for a second, dragging in a ragged breath. Her insides felt like quivering jelly, and she broke out into a sweat.

“Brie?”

She jerked her head in Linc’s direction, hearing the concern in his voice. The normal hardness was not in his face as he silently met and held her gaze. For a second, Brie wanted to cry. The feeling caught her off guard: she hadn’t cried since getting out of the hospital. She had cried for John. She had cried for his wife, Carol, and their two-year-old girl, Susie. But she had never
cried for herself. Hot, blinding tears stung her eyes, and Brie swiveled her head to face front. Trying to concentrate on the task of driving, she was mortified that Tanner had caught her with her guard down. What would he think if she suddenly burst into tears? He’d grumble something about it always being just like a woman to cry at the drop of the hat or some such garbage. Her fingers tightened on the wheel until her knuckles whitened.

Linc rested the map on his lap, directing all his attention to her. He had glanced over moments before and saw Brie visibly pale and a light film of perspiration glaze her flesh. What had triggered that kind of reaction? At first, he thought he had caused it by teasing her too much. But when he had softly called her name and she had swung toward him like a startled doe caught in a hunter’s cross hairs, he knew differently. He saw genuine terror in the pools of her luminous eyes. He was no stranger to terror himself and recognized that whatever Brie carried within her was tragic and profound because it was affecting her physically.

He watched her expressive face close up and become unreadable. If he hadn’t seen the transformation, Linc would never have believed it. Was this another facet to Brie? The embattled veteran of one too many horrifying accidents? Linc had seen fire fighters gradually lose their nerve to fight fires or peel injured or dead people out of gruesome auto wrecks. He recognized that same look in Brie’s eyes, and his throat tightened with sudden emotion. The urge to reach out and place his hand on her tense shoulder and tell her everything was going to
be all right nearly overpowered him. It took a supreme effort for him to sit quietly.

“I—I’m all right,” she forced out in a low, strained voice.

He gave her a gentle smile meant to support her. “I don’t know about you, but I could use another cup of coffee. Want some?” He held up the thermos. His ploy worked—he saw the terror slowly drain from her eyes, and her shoulders dropped to their normal position.

“That sounds like a good idea, thanks.”

You’re pretty cool, aren’t you? You’re in a lot of pain, but you hold your own. Linc’s mouth tightened as he mulled over how Brie was able to shift gears quickly, from being frightened by something inside her to being calm and returning to the outer world, where she had to continue to function. That was good. Was her terror due to the accident? John Holcomb’s death? He handed her the coffee, their fingers briefly touching. He felt how cold hers were, and again, to his own disbelief, he felt the urge to hold her in his arms and protect her.

You’re getting old, Tanner. Let a woman with big, beautiful green eyes that are marred with pain come near you, and you want to protect her. What’s gotten into you? Separate, pal, separate. She’s supposed to be protected from a possible criminal element. No involvement. It will screw up your reflexes, and that won’t be good for her or you if someone’s gunning for her.

Linc settled back, sipping the hot coffee. He repeated the litany in his head several times before all those new feelings Brie had brought to life in him had been erased.

The silence in the truck was broken by a call
coming over one of the radios. Which one? Linc wasn’t sure until Brie reached for the mike closest to the driver’s seat.

“Remind me to kill McPeak the next time we see him,” she muttered, switching one of the dials to a new position.

Linc sat up. “Why?”

“This is the Ohio state police calling. The only time they contact us is when there’s a haz-mat accident on our turf.”

He listened with interest to the radio conversation. Without being told to, he picked up the small clipboard that swung from a hook on the dash, and wrote down the location of the accident, the types of chemicals involved and the numbers on the truck placards.

Brie’s scowl deepened as the trooper read off the numbers.

“FM 26, he’s got two placards. One is 1050 and the other is 9161.”

Linc started to reach for a small manual entitled Hazardous Materials Emergency Response Guidebook to find out what the numbers meant. But before he even opened the booklet, Brie was saying, “Sergeant, that’s anhydrous hydrochloric acid and zinc sulfate.”

“What kind of danger does that present?”

Plenty, Brie wanted to answer. Instead, she kept her voice impersonal and calm. “What’s the status on the tanker carrying the chemicals?”

“It’s resting on its side along the berm.”

“From your position, can you see any of the contents leaking out?”