In Safe Hands (28 page)

Just the mention of Chris broke something inside her, and she started to cry. Daisy tried very hard to keep silent, grateful for the muffling effects of the door between them. She'd been so proud of her baby steps, of the unlocked inner door and of staying conscious despite her glimpse of the outside. It had given her hope that she'd eventually get better.

Now, though, curled in a ball and sitting in a dark gym, a dead bolt and a rack of weights separating her from the fireman who was risking his life trying to save her, she didn't see how she'd ever be worthy of someone like Chris, a hero who ran toward danger. All she did was hide from imaginary bogeymen.

“Daisy? You still conscious in there?”

If she didn't talk, he'd think she was passed out—or dead. “Yeah.” It was impossible to hide the tears in her voice, and she flushed with that additional shame.

“Did you hear me before? About Jennings?”

“Yeah.” She wiped her cheek on the knee of her pants. “He deserves better.”

There was a pause, and then he groaned. “Are you serious? You're going to make me do this?”

“Do what?”

“Have this conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“This conversation. The one where you make something simple complicated.”

“What do you mean?” She scooted over next to the door so she could lean against the wall and hear Ian better. As much as she didn't want him to risk his life by staying with her, it was so comforting to have him there.

“If you want to be together, be together. Stop making it so complicated.”

“Does Rory make things complicated?” Daisy knew she was changing the subject, but she didn't want to talk about Chris, not when she was on the verge of being blown up and never seeing him again. The thought made her want to bawl like a baby, and she'd just managed to control her tears.

“Nope.” His tone was positively smug. “That's one of the reasons I'm marrying her.”

“Marrying her?” she echoed. “You two are engaged? Congratulations!” It occurred to her that it was a strange conversation to be having in a gas-filled house while barricaded in her training room. The fear eased when she talked to him, though.

“Don't tell her yet,” he warned as his radio chattered faintly in the background. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“Surprise? You're not going to put the ring in her pulled pork at Levi's or something equally cheesy and public, are you? Because I think Rory would hate that. Plus, she might break a tooth or swallow it or something. I've never understood how burying a diamond in food is romantic.” Granted, all of her experience with proposals had been from watching TV or movies or reading about them in books.

“No.” By the heaping amount of defensiveness he managed to pack into that one-word denial, Daisy was pretty sure he'd been planning something close. “Nothing like that. I just want it to be a surprise.”

“I won't tell.”

“Thanks.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “Do you seriously think that Jennings isn't full-out panting for you?”

The change of topic threw her. “What? No, I…I mean…what?”

“Because if you even glance in his direction during training, he starts flexing.”

“He does not!” She choked on a laugh. “I thought you didn't want to have this conversation.”

His sigh was so exaggerated that she could hear it through the door. “I'll suffer through it, as long as you and Jennings finally get together and stop with the fake just-friends deal.”

“It's not fake!” When he didn't respond, it was her turn to sigh. “We are friends. And Chris wants to be more than friends.”

“Finally,” Ian muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

Letting her head tip back against the wall, she ignored his comment. “I want that, too—so much—but I can't do that to him.”

“Do what to him?” He sounded cranky. “See, this is why I hate these conversations. There are always these vague reasons why you have to make things complicated. Things are not complicated. You want him. He wants you. Therefore, you f—uh, date.”

“Ian!” A flare of anger burned through her misery. “I just beat you up for trying to save my life. I've locked myself in a room in a house that could explode at any second, and you think I should inflict this mess on Chris? He doesn't deserve that.”

“You didn't beat me up.” Of course that was what he focused on. “It was one lucky hit that took me by surprise.”

“Whatever. That doesn't change the fact that I'm a crazy person who doesn't leave her house.”

When he spoke, his tone was gentle. “Daisy. We're all messes, just in different ways. I dragged Rory into my mess, and she dragged me into hers. It's kind of the definition of a relationship. Besides, you're getting better.”

She didn't feel like she was better. The unlocked door seemed so small a step compared to her freak-out over leaving the house—a dangerous, gas-filled house. The reminder made her turn toward the door so quickly that her elbow hit the weight rack.

“Ow,” she yelped, cupping the throbbing joint with her other hand.

“You okay, Daisy?” His voice had sharpened. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Although she grimaced, she swallowed any other sounds of pain. “I'm fine. You need to leave, Ian. If the house explodes, I don't want you in it.”

“It's fine.” Daisy opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “I've been listening to the other guys' progress on the radio. The gas levels are almost down to nothing. That new ventilator we just got is kick ass.”

“You shouldn't have stayed with me.” Now that the fear had ebbed, guilt was taking its place. “I would've felt so bad if you'd been blown up because of me.”

“No, you wouldn't have, since you'd have been just as dead as me.” His matter-of-fact tone almost made her laugh. “You might want to start moving whatever you piled in front of the door out of the way, since they're going to be letting people back into the area soon. That includes your man, who's going to be charging in here as soon as they stop restraining him.”

Although she grimaced at the thought of facing everyone after the cowardly way she'd scurried to a dark corner, she started moving weights off the rack and back onto the mat. When Ian's final couple of words belatedly sank in, she repeated, “Restraining him?”

“Yeah. Whenever the chief was talking, I could hear Jennings yelling in the background. I'm guessing it took at least a couple of guys to keep him out of here. Maybe handcuffs, too.” It sounded like the idea amused him.

“See,” she said, all desire to laugh gone, “all I do is cause problems for him.”

“Quit the whiny, self-pitying sh—crap and grow a pair, Daisy. If you dump him, you're going to make him miserable. He loves you, and that includes your hatred of the great outdoors. So zip it.”

Her mouth hung open as she stared at the door. “I should grow a pair?”

“I didn't mean that literally,” he grumbled. “Although, even if you actually did, Jennings would probably
still
follow you around like a puppy.”

Her laugh returned at that, and she started moving weights again. “Thanks, Ian.”

“Anytime, Daisy.”

It was hard for her to unlock the training room door, but it wasn't because of fear that time. She was embarrassed and didn't want to face the people she'd made worry. Ian's words about growing a pair rang in her head, giving her the strength to stiffen her shoulders and twist the dead bolt.

With the weights moved and the rack dragged off to one side, all she had to do was twist the knob and pull. Daisy decided she was sick of standing on the wrong side of doors because she was too scared to step through them. Blowing out a hard breath, she closed her fingers around the knob and opened the door.

Ian, looking extra-large in his bunker gear, was leaning one shoulder against the hallway wall. He'd removed his mask and pushed up the clear face shield onto his helmet. Reluctantly, she met his gaze and was surprised he didn't look angry.

“Aren't you mad?” she asked.

He seemed honestly confused by her question. “No. Why should I be?”

Before she could answer, Chris came barreling toward them. The force of his hug lifted her feet off the ground and squeezed the air out of her lungs.

“Dais!” His voice was rough. “Jesus, Dais. You scared the shit out of me.”

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his heart hammering against her. The realization of how scared he'd been brought another rush of guilt.
She
'd done that to him. What kind of horrible, selfish person was she, to endanger Ian's life and to terrify the man she loved?

“They wouldn't let me past the perimeter.” His arms tightened even more, and she squeezed him in return, trying to apologize without words. “All I could do was stare at the house, just waiting for the explosion.”

He took a step back, although he kept hold of her shoulders. With a little space between them, she could see Chris's face and the destroyed look on it.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “It was my fault. I'm the one who scared everyone.”

“Fuck.” He moved his hands from her shoulders to her face, cupping it gently. His fingers were shaking. “I thought I'd lose you.”

She grabbed his wrists, not to pull his hands away, but because she needed to touch him. Opening her mouth, she wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how much she regretted putting that tortured look on his face, but what came out was something different. “I did a peroneal strike on Ian.”

Chris blinked. “What?”

His hands prevented her from turning her head toward him, but she could see enough of Ian in her peripheral vision to tell that he looked amused. “I'm sorry. It was just instinct. He was going to do the fireman's carry and take me outside, and I just couldn't go.” Dropping her gaze, she stared at Chris's chin. “Not yet. I'll do it, I promise. Just…not yet.”

Chris was quiet for too long of a time. Although she wanted to check out his expression, to see if he looked mad or exasperated or impatient or exhausted, she just couldn't bring herself to look any higher than his chin. It was a nice chin, strong and square with a hint of stubble, but it didn't give her much feedback as to what he was feeling.

“Knee strike?” he finally asked, and surprise allowed her to meet his eyes. His expression didn't show any of the emotions she'd been expecting. Instead, he looked…blank.

She nodded slowly, wondering what was behind his impassive mask.

“Nice. You took him down with one knee strike?” His mouth curled up in a proud smile. “Look at you, warrior woman.”

There was the sound of a throat clearing from Ian's direction. “I wouldn't say she took me down.”

“Not all the way,” Daisy agreed, feeling a little light-headed from relief that neither Chris nor Ian was furious with her. “He just sort of sagged a little, and I was able to pull my arm free. I was going to land a couple more kicks, just to make sure he stayed down, but then I remembered he was Ian, not a bad guy, so I just ran.”

“That's the whole point of our training,” Chris said, his eyes warm as they fixed on hers. “Getting away. Not that I don't wish Walsh had managed to catch you and drag you out of this house.”

The thought of what might have happened if she'd been a little slower still had the ability to turn her legs into rubber. The logical portion of her brain scoffed at her for fearing going outside more than being inside a gas-filled house, but it couldn't change her body's conviction that terrible things would happen once she stepped through her front door.

“Hey, Jennings. Can you let go of your lady long enough for me to do a quick check?” a male voice behind Daisy asked. When Daisy turned to see who'd spoken, Chris's hands dropped away from her face and landed on her shoulders again. He tugged her closer, so her back pressed against his front.

“Junior,” he greeted the firefighter, who was already pulling out a blood-pressure cuff from his medical bag.

“Why don't we take this party into another room?” Ian suggested. “It's getting crowded in this hallway.”

“Things are a little busy back there.” Junior jerked his head in the direction of the living room. “The repair guy's here fixing the leak, with the sheriff hovering over him asking questions about what caused it. That, and the windows wouldn't open, so we had to break some of them when we were ventilating. They're boarding them up now.”

“The windows are broken?” Her stomach jumped at the thought of the open spaces that would surround her without the protective glass barriers.

Chris's hands started to massage her shoulders as he moved his mouth close to her ear. “I'll call Lenny over at the hardware store and see how soon he can get here. Until then, they'll be covered in plywood.”

Although she nodded, her insides were still unhappy.

“The training room, then?” Ian asked, reminding her of the direction the conversation had been headed before she'd been distracted by broken windows.

“Sure.” It wasn't until she was leading the three men into the gym that she remembered the mess she'd made with her improvised barricade. When Junior gave a low whistle, she cringed. “Sorry about this.” She waved her hand at the scattered weights. “I usually keep it neater.”

“This is awesome.” Apparently, the whistle had been in admiration of the room, not condemnation of its untidiness. “Man, I'm jealous. If I had this nice of a gym in my house, I probably wouldn't leave either.”

Chris, who'd dropped his hands from her shoulders when they'd moved into the training room, stiffened and put a hand on her lower back. Daisy gave him a reassuring smile. Junior's comment was probably the least upsetting thing that had happened in the past few hours.

Oblivious to Chris's irritation, Junior grinned as he waved her toward a weight bench. “Your throne, gym princess.”

She smiled and took a seat, but Ian cuffed the back of the other fireman's helmet.

“Watch it,” Ian growled. “Jennings is ready to rip off your”—he paused with a quick glance at Daisy—“face.”

She ducked her head to hide her amusement. Hovering behind her, Chris made a wordless sound confirming Ian's warning.

Junior didn't seem too concerned, judging by the wink he gave her as he wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her upper arm. He did keep his comments to himself while he took her vitals, although that might have been his professionalism kicking in.

“Everything's within normal range,” he told her as he unclipped the oximeter from her finger. “I'm assuming you don't want to visit the hospital?” When she shook her head, he continued, “Medical's outside, so I can have the paramedics come in and check you out, if you want.”

“Won't they just check the same things?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“They don't need to come in, then. I'm fine.”

“Daisy…” Chris said in his
I-know-better-than-you
tone, and she turned her head to give him her best
no-you-don't
glare.

“I'm fine,” she said firmly. “Thank you, Junior.”

“Anytime.” As he put his equipment away, his eyes roamed the room. “Although if you really want to show your gratitude, you could let me use your gym once in a while.”

“Of course.” She frowned. “Although we might have to start a new training group, since it's already a pretty tight fit with eight people.”

“Eight?”

“Yes.” She ticked each person off on her fingers as she named them. “Me, Chris, Ian, Rory, Lou, Callum, George, and Ellie.”

Junior whipped around to scowl at Ian. “You've been working out here with a bunch of hot chicks and haven't invited any of the rest of us? Way to hold out on your fire brothers, Beauty.”

“Thanks, Daisy,” Ian groaned. “Now we'll never keep him out of here. There's a gym at Station One, Junior.”

“Yeah, with crappy equipment and zero hot chicks. I want to come here.”

“We could have firefighter training days,” Daisy suggested, twisting to look at Chris. “They could just come and use the equipment, so you wouldn't have to give up more of your time to coach.”

“Nuh-uh.” Junior shook his head. “I want the coed training time.”

“Don't make me have to smack you again.” Ian raised a hand, but he grabbed the back of Junior's coat instead of hitting him that time. “Get your bag. Let's go.”

“You okay, Daisy?” Rory's voice brought everyone's attention to the doorway where she stood.

When she saw the other woman, Daisy felt her earlier guilt resurface. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” Rory took a few steps into the room. Her bunker gear was obviously new, almost painfully clean compared to the guys' soot-darkened coats and pants.

“For beating up Ian and almost getting him blown up,” she admitted in a rush, swallowing back the tears that wanted to break free.

“You beat up Beauty?” Junior asked, his glee obvious.

At the same time, Ian protested, “You didn't beat me up.”

Ignoring both men, Daisy focused on Rory. “I'm sorry. When he tried to make me go outside, I panicked. I didn't think he'd stay in here with me.”

“Tell us about the beat down,” Junior urged, “in very specific detail. Did you make Ian cry like a tiny baby?”

Daisy didn't even glance at him, too worried about Rory hating her for endangering her soon-to-be fiancé. Well, soon-to-be fiancé if Ian didn't screw it up by burying the engagement ring in shredded meat slathered with barbeque sauce. Corralling her straying brain, she watched Rory's face for any hint of loathing.

“His hero complex isn't your fault,” Rory said, sending a quick smile in Ian's direction. “He'd never leave someone in danger. That's just who he is.”

“If I would've just let him carry me outside instead of doing that knee strike…” Even just saying the words made sweat dampen her palms.

“It worked out, Dais.” Chris had been standing quietly behind her, but now he wrapped an arm around her upper chest in a backward hug. “Everyone's okay, and you can work on getting out of the house in your own time.”

“You need to make some changes, though,” Ian said, crossing the room to stand next to Rory. “If you can't leave, you need to make this house as safe as possible. A sprinkler system would be a good start.”

“Oh!” Rory's normally grave face lit with enthusiasm. “A panic room. Fireproof, explosion-proof, with a separate ventilation system, so you'd be safe from smoke inhalation or gas leaks. It'd also protect you during a home invasion.”

“Or a zombie attack,” Ian teased, giving her an affectionate bump with his shoulder. Even though she rolled her eyes, Rory couldn't hide the smile that was trying to break free.

“Thanks.” Daisy suddenly felt exhausted. “But I really just want to leave the house. Then, I won't need a panic room, since I can panic outside.”

“Everyone can use a panic room,” Rory said with a sideways glance at Ian. “If you have one, I could run across the street and use yours, since we don't have one.”

It was Ian's turn to roll his eyes. “Maybe, if you're a very good girl, Santa will bring you a panic room for Christmas.”

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide as she turned to Ian. “We're getting a safe room?”

Daisy was starting to think that Ian should propose with a panic room instead of a ring.

“Possibly.” He grimaced. “I might have to win the lottery first.”

“Everyone okay in here?” Once again, a voice from the doorway drew everyone's attention. That time, it was Chief Early entering the training room. “Whoa. This is a nice set-up.”

“Daisy invited everyone from Fire to use it,” Junior piped up. “She's going to have coed training sessions, too.”

The sound that came from Chris was a strange combination of a laugh and a growl. “You just make up whatever reality you want, don't you?”

“Yep.” Junior grinned, as if he'd been complimented.

The chief cleared his throat.

“Daisy's fine,” Ian belatedly answered.

“Good.” After giving Daisy a nod, the chief turned a stern face toward Ian. “A word?” Even though it was phrased as a question, there was no hiding the command in his voice.

Looking resigned, Ian gave Rory's arm a squeeze before following Chief Early out of the room.

“What was that about?” Daisy asked.

Junior looked serious for the first time since she'd met him. “Ian disobeyed a direct order. Not sure what the repercussions will be. Could be he just gets chewed out.” His doubtful tone indicated that he didn't think Ian would get off so lightly.

“What order did he disobey?” Her gaze darted from person to person. From their grim expressions, everyone knew what was going on except for Daisy. None of them answered, so she tried to work it out in her mind. When he'd talked on the radio, his words had been muffled, so she hadn't been able to understand what he'd said until he raised his voice loud enough for her to hear through the door.