Come Gentle the Dawn (6 page)

L
inc’s eyes were burning with obvious concern as he walked the last hundred yards from the barricade of police cars and met her. Without a word, he helped her out of the hood. The fresh air felt heavenly, and Brie closed her eyes as she loosened the rubber straps of her face mask. She pulled it over her head, breathed in deeply, then gave him a welcoming smile.

“I never lose the wonder of taking the first deep breath after wearing this gear.”

Linc’s mouth was a thin line as he walked at her side toward the van. “You may be the boss, lady, but that’s the
last
time you ever go into a situation by yourself.” He still didn’t believe she had been able to cut the battery cables by herself, much less make sure there was no leak.

Brie gave him an understanding look. “If it makes
you feel any better, I didn’t like the idea of going in alone, either.”

He tried to ignore the natural warmth that emanated from her. The crisis had brought them together as a team, and he found himself reacting like a team member. “Like I said, it’s the last time that’s going to happen. So many things could have gone wrong.” His jaw tightened and his mouth worked as he wrestled with emotions he refused to share with her.

“They’ll have a suit for you by next week, Linc,” she soothed. “Chief Saxon will give us a call when it’s ready.”

Partly mollified, Linc nodded. “For whatever it’s worth, you really bring out my protective side, lady.”

She smiled, amusement in her dark jade eyes. “Don’t look so distraught over it happening, Tanner. It’s not a disease, you know.”

Linc didn’t have time to respond to her obvious teasing. Brie was hounded by a television camera crew and two local newspaper reporters the moment she stepped beyond the line of state police cars. He hated reporters with passion and stepped in front of her to protect her from their rabid charge, placing his bulk between them like a wall. Brie gave him a silent thank-you and escaped to the rear of the van to change. The reporters were behaving like spoiled children because he was an unknown who had broken up their charge.

“Hey, buddy,” one freckle-faced reporter with carrot-red hair called, “who do you think you are? We have a right to interview Ms. Williams!”

Linc stood with his arms crossed. Sergeant D’Onofrio joined him, looking equally menacing.

“You’ll get your interview when we’re done coordinating this haz-mat cleanup,” Linc growled back.

“If you’re with the haz-mat people, why aren’t you in uniform?”

Linc glared at the pushy little reporter. “It was my day off. Now do us all a favor and stand back. When we’re done, you’ll get to talk to Ms. Williams. But not now.”

“But,” the television reporter cried out, “I’ve got to make the eleven o’clock news!”

“You’re breaking my heart. When are you reporters going to learn you can’t interfere in a crisis like this? You wait your turn.”

The trooper at his shoulder allowed a hint of a grin to appear as they watched the newspeople reluctantly disperse.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Mr. Tanner. If I did that, my post would get accused of being uncooperative with the news media.”

Linc snorted, dropping his hands to his sides. “I hate those people, if you can call them that. They’re always underfoot.”

The sergeant smiled, looking past Linc. He spotted the tanker that had been dispatched to come and pump the contents from the damaged one making its way slowly toward them. “I’ve worked a couple of times with Brie, and it’s my opinion she allows those reporters too much time. She gives in to their demands.”

“She won’t any more,” Linc promised, turning and walking to the back of the van. Brie was putting on her shoes when he rounded the corner. Her hair was dark with sweat and plastered against her head, the bangs hanging limply over her eyebrows. The heavy, protec
tive gear, had made her perspire, and her one-piece uniform clung to her body as a result. He appreciated her slender lines.

“Do me a favor?” Brie asked, lifting her head as she tied her shoelaces.

“Name it.”

“In the front, between the seats, is a jug of water. I’m dying of thirst. Can you—”

“I’ll get it. You just sit there and rest for a minute.”

Brie swallowed her smile, aware of Linc’s exaggerated protectiveness. John had given her a similar, although not as powerful, sense of care. Jeff didn’t, but perhaps that was because of his age. Linc came back and handed her a plastic glass. The water was lukewarm but it tasted wonderful anyway. She drank three glasses before her thirst was sated. Thanking him, she stood and touched her hair. With a grimace, she tried to tame the wet strands into some order, then gave up.

“You look beautiful just the way you are,” Linc said.

“You have strange taste, then.”

He shared her smile, watching the golden flecks of life in her eyes. “I have good taste, though. Does that count, Ms. Williams?” he asked her in a gritty tone.

Brie’s heart thumped at the sudden intimacy between them. She felt heat flooding her cheeks, and avoided his intense blue stare. “The tanker’s here,” she stammered, avoiding his question altogether. “Come on, I want to talk with the driver before the troopers allow him through.”

Linc followed, keeping an eye on the restless band of reporters nearby. Good, they were staying out of the way—for once. Brie spoke at length with the driver, and Linc found himself in awe of her knowledge of the equip
ment to be used, of pumping procedures and of how to safely take the chemicals out of the overturned vehicle. No woman could know that much about mechanics!

Climbing into the van, Brie motioned for him to come inside. She was allowing him to go with her! Then he decided since they were going to the overturned truck, he’d personally check for leaks, not trusting Brie’s inspection. The women he knew always glossed over situations, and Brie could have, too.

Floodlights provided by a nearby volunteer fire department illuminated the transfer of chemicals. Linc looked at his watch and realized it was nearly nine o’clock. The day had died in a crimson sunset earlier. He had suspiciously checked the tanker for leaks. To his chagrin and relief, he didn’t find any. Brie had caught him at it and broke into a grin, making him feel foolish. And it needled him further that she had said nothing and merely turned away to leave him to complete his personal inspection.

Linc made sure all the equipment was hung up in the van afterward. He said little as the tanker carrying the noxious chemicals slowly drove away. In the floodlights, Brie’s features were washed out and taut with exhaustion. He wanted to urge her to forget the reporters, but she doggedly shook her head and went over to them. She answered their barrage of questions for nearly twenty minutes. He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally ended the press conference and walked to the van.

“Why’d you go out of your way to talk to those idiots?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Because the people of Ohio need to be informed on what we do. Every little scrap of information through
the media to them may help us do our job in the long run, Linc. It helps everyone if we can teach the public to check tankers as they pass them on the highway, see if they have any leaks, then report them, if there are.” She stopped near the van, giving him the keys. “You drive, I’m getting tired.”

He opened the door for her and saw a shadow of a smile lurking at the corners of her glorious mouth. “Chauvinism is
not
dead,” he informed her silkily.

She climbed in. “Does that mean you’ll put my seat belt on, too?”

Linc hesitated, very aware that she looked so vulnerable because of her fatigue. “Just say the word. Nothing’s too good for you, lady. Not after the way you handled this haz-mat situation.”

Brie met his dark eyes, realizing he respected her for the first time. “Get in. I’m not so weak that I can’t buckle up. Will I need to put on a crash helmet with you at the wheel?”

Linc shut the door and grinned. “My good friends always called me Captain Crash.”

Brie chortled and waited until he climbed into the van before saying, “Is that short for Captain Crash and Dash?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“That’s an old fire fighter’s pet name for those who crash through a burning structure’s door, then fall through the floor into the basement. We never thought much of the crash and dashes in our department, or any other, for that matter. They risk other people’s lives with their inability to think coolly under stress.”

He got the van on the road and they headed toward Canton. “I’m not that kind,” he protested.

Brie slumped into her seat, relaxing and closing her eyes. He wasn’t a reckless driver, and she smiled slightly. “So, how many pumpers or tankers did you wreck then? There had to be a reason for the nickname.”

He glanced at Brie, alarmed by the faraway tone in her soft voice. Darkness shadowed her features, relieved only by the lights of passing vehicles. “The name Captain Crash was given to me because in certain situations I just lower my head like a bull and charge.”

“Wonderful. Now you tell me. What did you do, bully those poor reporters earlier? They didn’t have many nice things to say about your handling of them.”

His brows drew down. “Tough. I’ll never let them at you when you’re exhausted or busy coordinating an incident.”

Sleep tugged at Brie, and she wanted to give in to it. “Linc, I’m going to knock off for a while. It’s still an hour until we get home. Wake me up when you hit the outskirts of Canton, okay?”

Again, Linc was struck by Brie’s exhaustion. Didn’t she ever get a decent night’s sleep? “Are you all right?” Concern was obvious in his voice, and he saw her look at him through her lowered lashes.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry, I didn’t breathe in any of that stuff at the site. I’m just beat, that’s all.”

“Okay. Sleep for a while.”

“Sure? It’s been a long, hard day for you, too.”

He liked her sensitivity and regard for others. “Go to sleep, kitten. I’ll wake you when it’s time,” he told her in a husky voice. Linc tried to tell himself that the care he extended toward Brie was part of his cover, not real concern.

Pleasantly wrapped in the melting honey of his tone,
Brie went to sleep. She spiraled quickly into an abyss where nothing except peace existed.

When she awoke, it was to the caress of strong fingers gently massaging her shoulder. Wanting to remain in the arms of sleep, she nuzzled the hand, which she discovered had wiry hairs across it. When it slowly dawned on her whose hand it was, she jerked awake and sat up.

“We’re near Canton,” Linc said quietly, giving her a worried look.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“A little after ten. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck,” she muttered, sitting up. “My neck feels like it has knots in it.” She began to rub it gently. Her hair had dried and was mussed, giving her a fragile look that Linc found hard to ignore.

He wondered what it would be like to make love to Brie. She was so responsive, like a hot, spirited thoroughbred. He had spent the past hour mulling over many facets of Brie, making a checklist of what he did or did not like about her. In the minus column, she was his boss. She was either a target or had set up Holcomb to be murdered. Which was it? Linc wanted to discount that Brie was capable of having her partner blown away, but he couldn’t that easily. Then again, if she was the culprit why did she risk injury as she did? He had only a few answers, and there were still so many pieces of the puzzle that didn’t fit. A plan had formed in his mind as she slept, and now he was going to spring it on her.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking, Brie.”

“Uh-oh, that could be dangerous,” she said, digging for the thermos.

“Are you always a tart when you wake up?”

She sat up, the thermos between her hands. “Just with your kind, Tanner. Want some?”

“No, thanks. What do you mean, my kind?”

Brie poured herself a cup of coffee, capped the thermos and sat back, enjoying Linc and her just awakening state. “Your kind meaning the guys in the fire service who are all macho and given to rooster crowing and strutting. They always have a line for the women who come around. Actually, I should thank all those guys I spent my fire fighting years with. They helped me handle someone like you.” She glanced out of the corners of her eyes to see how he was taking her teasing.

“You can really dish it out, can’t you, Ms. Williams?”

She grinned, placing both feet on the dash. “That’s right, any time, day or night. I’m on twenty-four-hour call, Tanner.”

“I’m impressed as hell. When I wake up, I’m not sharp at all.”

“No? Pity. Here I thought all you ever did was parry your way through life.”

He slid her a warning look laced with humor. “Only with smart mouths like you, Williams. Satisfied?”

“Immensely. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Saucy little cat. I’ll corner you someday and then we’ll see just how fast you can try and talk your way out of me kissing you. Linc wondered where that thought had come from. “How about if I crash and burn on your couch? We’re both beat. There’s no sense in driving all over Canton to find a motel open at this time of night. Besides, if you are called out, you’ll have to come and pick me up, wasting valuable time.”

Brie’s good humor disappeared abruptly. She put her
cup down, rested her hands on her knees and pondered his suggestion. Panic riffled through her. She didn’t want Linc at her house. She had no way of knowing when she would have another nightmare and she’d awake screaming. No, she couldn’t risk her image with Tanner like that. She wanted no one to see that weakened side of herself at any cost.

“I think you’ll be more comfortable at a motel, Linc.”

“I don’t sleep well in motels. There’s just something about a home that puts me at ease.” He glanced at her, seeing the set of her lips. What was going on inside that head of hers? Was she hiding something at her house she wanted no one to see? “I promise I’ll stay on the couch. No cute stuff. Okay?”