Flash Point (Kilgore Fire Book 2) (18 page)

“I’m glad you’re okay, Aaron,” I said. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He smirked grimly at me.

“Not really sure you would call this okay,” he shrugged. “But I’m glad I didn’t get dead, either.”

I reached my arm out the window and punched him in the good shoulder.

“Go to bed,” I said. “I’m going home.”

I looked up as the woman, now thankfully dressed, came out of the garage.

She had a fingernail in between her teeth as she stared at the two of us.

I narrowed my eyes and started up the truck.

I didn’t care why Booth and the woman broke up.

She had what I didn’t, and I couldn’t ever like her, even if she was nice like Booth said.

She would forever represent a part of my life that I could never get back. A part where I cried myself to sleep every night. A simple slice of my existence that would’ve been forever better had he been there with me.

And she was pretty to boot, so no, I didn’t fucking like her. And probably never would.

“Peace out, bitch,” I said to Aaron and put it into reverse.

The woman flinched and watched with wide eyes as I backed the truck out and closed the garage after me.

I did notice, though, that Aaron smiled at me as I went.

It wasn’t enough.

I was still pissed.

So what did I do?

I got piss roaring drunk, that’s what.

Pulling into the only gas station that I knew would serve me beer this late in the night, I walked in with a purpose.

The bells jingled as I pulled the door open.

“What are you doing up this early, girl?” The man, my dad’s best friend, wondered.

“Hi, Carlos,” I beamed. “I’m out of beer.”

Carlos’ eyes narrowed.

“You don’t like beer,” he noted, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

Carlos and my dad had been friends since I could remember.

Carlos had a son my sister’s age, and they’d always joked that Carlos’ Junior and Daniela would get married and have lots of babies.

However, Daniela died. Then Carlos Jr. had died in Afghanistan two years after Daniela, due to a horrible mission gone wrong.

Now they only had me, and they let it be known that they were both my father, even though Carlos was by choice.

“I like beer tonight,” I countered, walking to the back to grab a couple of silver bullets.

That was all it would take.

“That Booth’s truck you’re driving?” Carlos walked to the window and looked out.

“Yeah,” I muttered, setting my drinks down on the counter and pulling out my wallet from my back pocket.

It was one of those cute little zipper pouches that was usually made to carry change. Except I used it as a credit card holder since it fit into my pocket really well.

“I didn’t know it ran,” he looked at me. “It looks pretty good.”

It did.

“Why are you drinking?” Carlos
pushed. “And your money’s no good here, sweetheart.”

I sighed and dropped my head, chin to my chest.

“You know, you were like this when you were younger, too,” he murmured softly.

I inhaled a huge gulp of air and lifted my head.

“Yeah?” I asked, my eyes filling with tears.

I hastily wiped them away when a firetruck pulled into the parking lot.

“Yep,” Carlos said. “All the time. Y’all fight, and the whole damn world has to listen to you do it. Then you make up, and everyone realizes just why y’all are together in the first place.”

I laughed humorlessly.

“Yeah,” I said softly, slapping down a dollar onto the counter.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover the cost of those beers,” Carlos said to my retreating back.

I shrugged and said, “I’ll bring back what I have left.”

He snorted but didn’t say anything more as I walked out to the truck, mindful of the eyes I could feel on me from the firetruck.

My eyes, however, stayed on Booth who was leaning against the door of the truck.

I could barely see his face, but I could definitely see his eyebrows rise when they got a look at the two 32 ounce beers that were in both of my hands.

“Bad night?” He probed.

I lifted my lip at him in a silent snarl.

“Move,” I ordered.

He didn’t, of course.

“Now,” I said as firmly as I could.

He laughed.

I sighed and went to turn around to head back inside the door, but he caught me before I could, looping his arm around my waist.

“What’s your fucking problem,” he questioned, pulling me until I faced him once again.

My mouth dropped open.

“My problem?” I
shrieked. “You really need to ask me that?”

His mouth thinned as he clenched his teeth.

“Yes, or I wouldn’t have asked,” he shot back through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” I said, pulling away from him and walking away, putting some distance in between us. “You really want to know?”

He nodded once.

I smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty smile either.

“What would you have done if you’d come to my house, unexpectedly, and walked into my house to find a man who used to be my ex-husband naked in my bed?” I asked him.

“I would’ve understood that you didn’t love him, and that she was getting married tomorrow,” he growled, raising his voice.

I laughed bitterly.

“Bullshit,” I snarled. “Bull-
fucking
-shit.”

He growled at me in frustration.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, Masen. You’ve been it for me for the last ten fucking years. No one but you have had me since we met,” Booth growled.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t fucked one single person since we broke up?” I asked incredulously.

I mean, he’d said it when we were first together, but a man like Booth was viral. There was no way he could remain celibate for that long of a time.

He nodded. “Yes. There’s only been you, and you fucking know it.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You’re lying,” I hissed.

“No,” he said, crowding close to me now. “Because once you’ve had that little taste of heaven, nothing ever compares. You’re like a shot of Jack to my system. You ravage me. You’re like a fucking savage. Everyone else is like a watered down beer in comparison to you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re comparing me to alcohol?” I asked, shaking my beer at him in frustration.

He sighed.

“And what the fuck else am I going to compare you to?” He lifted his brows. “It wasn’t meant to offend you. It was meant to prove a fucking point. When someone wants the best, and has
had
the best, nothing else will ever compare. And you’re the best. Emily’s nothing compared to you. So yeah, if you want to compare yourself to her, you’ll win. Every goddamn time.”

I wanted to yell at him, but he was too fucking good.

When he spoke, it was hard not to listen.

“This’ll never work,” I waved my hands around desperately.

And it might not.

Carlos was right, we did fight a lot.

And I was on a sinking ship.

When all that was Booth finally took me under, I’d be forever his again.

And maybe I wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he was going to ruin me for good this time.

I couldn’t risk losing him again.

I’d barely survived it the first time.

Now I was older, and I knew what I was missing if it didn’t work out.

If he left me because I said something stupid, which I knew I would, then I’d be broken.

Never to be repaired again.

“Mase,” Booth’s soft voice said. “What happened?”

“You and me,” I pointed at him with one finger, and myself with the other. “We’ll never work,” I repeated.

He laughed behind me, pissing me off even further.

“Honey,” he drawled seductively. “That’s what we do. We fight. Then we make up. That’s the best part, remember?”

I shivered as those words slid down my spine.

“Yes,” I turned. “But what if one day we can’t do that anymore. What if one day you don’t think of me like that anymore.”

He chuckled.

“Oh, you’re reaching,” he goaded.

I was.

I was losing the battle, and I couldn’t say I minded.

“You piss me off,” I sneered.

He snorted and pressed his lips to my neck, right along my spine.

“You piss me off, too, darlin’,” he agreed. “But that’s what we do, piss each other off. Then the next minute we’ll be laughing about what we had for dinner the night before. That’s just us. You and me. Crazy and crazier. I love you, so that’s all that matters here. What do you think of that?”

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forearm which was crossed across my chest.

“I love you, too,” I said, lifting his shirt from his pants, then pressing my cold beer against him.

He laughed and shied away from me, finally giving me access to the truck.

“You’re putting a lot of miles on my truck,” he accused.

I shrugged as I climbed inside.

“You were the one who gave it to me,” I countered.

He grinned.

“I sure did, didn’t I?” His eyes were lit with humor.

I started the truck up and started backing out of the parking lot, being sure to wave at the truck full of firefighters that didn’t have the decency to look away as Booth and I fought.

They waved back, and I drove home in silence, letting my mind roam over what Booth had said.

And I knew he was right.

I just got cold toes.

But they were nice and toasty now, along with certain other parts of my body.

Surround yourself with people who run towards gunfire, they will not disappoint you when shit hits the fan.

-T-shirt

Booth

“This is the man that’s destroying her parent’s mailbox,” I said, handing Luke a picture I’d printed off at home.

He took it and studied it, then flipped through the next four I’d placed on his desk.

“When were these taken?” He looked up at me questioningly.

“I wrote the times down on the back, my printer decided it wanted to cut the times and dates off,” I said, pointing to the back.

“Got it,” he placed them on his desk. “Without catching the guy doing it, or having actual proof of who he is, there’s nothing we can really do. We don’t have the manpower to spare, and if all he’s doing is destroying a mailbox, then we have bigger fish to fry.”

I sighed.

That was what I was afraid he would say.

“I knew you were going to say that,” I groaned in exasperation. “But how many mailboxes do they have to beat up before they do become important?”

If Masen’s estimations were correct, then they’d spend over five grand on mailboxes over the last five years it’d been going on.

“Isn’t this a federal crime?” I asked when Luke sighed.

He shrugged.

“Yes and no. It is a federal crime to fuck with people’s mail, but they usually reserve getting involved when it’s something such as stealing mail and using the checks and such,” Luke explained. “This wouldn’t even rank on their radar if they’re still getting all their mail. Most likely it’s just a stupid punk kid who gets his jollies off destroying the same mailbox.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You know,” I said. “I’m not going to let this keep happening. If you don’t do something about it, I will.”

Luke grimaced.

“My hands are tied here, Booth,” Luke apologized. “Until it escalates beyond pettiness, I’m not going to be able to do anything. Let me know if anything changes, though.”

He handed the pictures back to me, but I waved them off. “Keep them.”

He placed them down on his desk and nodded at me.

“Watch yourself,” he warned. “You may have experience, but sometimes that hurts more than it helps with a judge.”

I didn’t respond, I just left Luke’s office and walked out of the station

I was able to get the files from my email, thanks to a now cooled down Masen.

And I’d headed straight to the station after my shift at work was over.

Luke wasn’t helpful like I thought he’d be, either.

Now I was left with a sick feeling in my gut.

The amount of violence I saw in the man as he destroyed the mailbox wasn’t saying childish behavior to me, they were the actions of someone consumed with rage.

And rage made people do stupid stuff.

Masen’s parents, Ron and Karen, were just lucky that they hadn’t gotten home while the man was in the process of doing it.

There was no telling what he would do while he was in the middle of destroying the box.

Frustrated, I walked past my bike where it was parked in front of the fire station, straight to the donut shop that was only two doors down from us.

“What can I get you?” The man behind the counter asked.

I studied the board hanging above his head.

“Give me five kolaches, a half dozen glazed, and a half dozen chocolate sprinkles,” I ordered, moving my eyes from the board to the man.

He was on the shorter side at around five foot six or seven, with dark hair and dark eyes, and he was glaring at me like I’d ordered one of everything on the menu. He was likely in his late fifties, early sixties and looked incredibly familiar to me for some reason.

“That all?” He questioned sharply.

I nodded. “That’s all.”

Then my eyes wandered over to the drink cooler, and I smiled as I walked over to it and grabbed out three chocolate milks.

It’d been a long time since I’d enjoyed that delicacy.

Chocolate milk was few and far between…at least the
right
chocolate milk.

Borden was the only way you could get the full experience, and lucky for me they had that exact brand right in front of me.

“These, too,” I dropped them down on the counter.

The man, who hadn’t even started ringing me up yet, glared at me.

I didn’t say anything else as he finished giving me my donuts, rang me up, and took my money.

“Thanks,” I muttered, turning my back on the man.

His attitude was puzzling, but not everyone could have a good day.

Hell, I wasn’t having a good day, so other people were allowed to have one, too.