Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) (5 page)

Sour bile twisted Dale's gut. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath through clenched teeth, trying to settle his stomach. Trying to settle his nerves.

"You still there?"

One more deep breath then he opened his eyes. His grip on the phone was too tight and he made a conscious effort to ease it. "Yeah. I'm here."

"You are going, right?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Dale, you need to be there. She's our sister."

"No. She's
your
sister, not mine." His voice was tightly controlled, cold and distant. He heard Lauren sigh, pictured her pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her head.

"It doesn't work that way and you know it."

"Lauren, I'm not getting into this right now."

"Fine. Just tell me you'll be there and I'll let it go."

"Lauren—"

"No. I'm not backing down on this. I'm going to be there. Mom and Dad are going to be there. You need to be there, too."

"Why? Tell me why. So we can pretend we're all one big happy family and that what she did doesn't matter?"

"That's not why and you know it." Lauren's voice had turned chilly, a little stubborn. Well, let her get upset. He wasn't budging on this, no matter what she did.

"I don't know anything of the sort."

"Because she's our sister, Dale. You can be mad all you want, but she's still our sister. We have to be there to support her."

"Bullshit." He leaned forward in the chair, the legs hitting the concrete floor with a hollow thud. "She tried to kill you, Lauren."

"Not deliberately—"

"I don't give a flying fuck if it was deliberate or not. She poisoned you. It doesn't matter why. You could have died. How can you even think of supporting her after what she did?"

"Because—" Lauren paused, clearing her throat. It didn't matter because Dale still heard the emotion in her voice, heard the thickness wrapping around her words. "Because she's family. And you need to be there. I'm asking you to be there. For me."

"Dammit Lauren—"

"I need to go. I'll talk to you later."

Dale stared at the phone for several long minutes after she disconnected the call. Emotions raged within him, dark and swirling, threatening to overwhelm him. Fuck. He didn't want to deal with this now. He didn't want to deal with it at all. And damn Lauren for putting him in this position, for saying she needed him to be there. Why couldn't she understand how he felt?

He jammed the phone in his pocket then stormed across the engine room, pushing past Mikey as she was coming out of the kitchen. She grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Fucking fabulous."

She raised her brows, her hand still wrapped around his arm. "Yeah, I can see that. Where you off to?"

"I'm going downstairs to work out." He glanced down at her hand then back up at her. "Do you mind?"

"Need someone to spot you?"

"No, I don't."

She dropped his arm and stepped back, her hands held up in mock surrender. "Suit yourself. I just thought you might want to go a few rounds with the punching bag and might need someone to hold it for you."

Dale stared at her, knowing what she was trying to do. He'd invite her down, throw a few punches, then end up listening to her talk. Ask questions. Give advice.

Or maybe just let him vent.

Yeah, like that would work. There wasn't enough time in the world for him to vent, to get the poison of his thoughts out of his system.

But maybe just hitting the bag would help. Maybe that would be enough to get him to calm down, to at least clear his mind, if only for a few hours.

He finally nodded then turned toward the basement stairs. "Fine, you can spot me. But I'm not talking about it."

He headed down the stairs, Mikey following him. And he could have sworn he heard her laugh and call him a liar.

Lauren grabbed the dishes from the table and carried them into the kitchen. The sound of silverware scraping against china was high-pitched, too loud.

"I can get them, you know." Dale called out but his words were drowned out by the sound of water running and the garbage disposal kicking on. He sighed and looked over at Kenny, who was seated across from him at the dining room table.

They had come to his place for dinner, showing up with less than thirty minutes' warning with pizza and beer. Dale had tried to tell Lauren no, tried to tell her he wasn't in the mood for company. She didn't listen. She never listened.

"She's still mad at me, huh?"

Kenny shrugged. He had a bruise along his jaw and a butterfly bandage on the bridge of his nose, and who knew how many other cuts and bruises that Dale couldn't see. All of them were courtesy of the Banners' game last night, and probably the game before then, too. The Banners had tonight off then headed to Chicago for a game tomorrow night, which made their visit even more suspicious. The couple should be at home, cuddling or whatever, not showing up here with pizza.

Kenny took a long swallow of beer and glanced over his shoulder before leaning closer to Dale. He spoke in a low tone, like he didn't want Lauren to hear him. "I'm not sure 'mad' is the right word. But yeah, she's upset."

"Great." Dale sipped his own beer, his brows lowered in a frown.

"Listen, it's not my place to get in the middle of this but I agree with you. Lauren knows that."

Dale waited, knowing Kenny had more to say. "But?"

"But—" Kenny shook his head. "I'm going to be there for Lauren. Because that's what she wants. And that's what this all comes down to: being there for Lauren."

"For you. You're supposed to be there for her. That's the way relationships work. It's not the same for me."

"Why not? I'd think it would apply to you even more because you're her brother."

"Well it doesn't, because—"

"Because you're being an ass." Lauren's voice carried into the dining room, loud and clear over the noise she was making. Dale clenched his jaw and shot a dirty look in the direction of the kitchen.

"Damn. I hate when she does that." He raised his voice so she could hear him. Not like he needed to, since she was hearing them just fine. "Why don't you save yourself the trouble of eavesdropping and just come back in here?"

The garbage disposal kicked off. "No, I'm good."

"You're a pain in the ass, is what you are."

"You still love me." Lauren stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, a small towel slung over her shoulder. Tall, lean, with an athlete's body. Her dark hair was a little longer, falling just below her shoulders, the subtle waves framing her slender face. Amusement glittered in her dark eyes, eyes so much like his own. But beneath the amusement he saw something else: worry, anxiety. Disappointment.

Dale sighed and looked away, not willing to face the emotion he saw so clearly. "I really don't feel like talking about this, Lauren. You know that."

"Why?"

"Why? Really? How can you even ask me that? Because I don't want to, that's why."

"That's not an excuse."

"Tough, because that's all you're getting."

"It's a cop-out."

"The hell it is."

"Yeah, it is. Just listen to yourself—"

"Guys! Enough, please." Kenny held his hands out, like he was some kind of referee breaking up a fight. Dale stared at him for a long second then sat back in the chair, stretching his legs out. He didn't bother looking at Lauren. He didn't have to. He knew his sister too well, knew she was watching him with those wide eyes, studying him too intently, her chin tilted up in stubbornness.

Waiting for the right moment, waiting for him to show weakness so she could pounce on it and use it to her advantage.

She'd always been able to do that, ever since they were kids and she wanted to do whatever it was he was doing and he would try to say no, try to convince her to do something else. Fishing, running, camping. Football. Hockey. It didn't matter. If he was doing it, she wanted to do it, just to prove she could.

And sometimes to prove she was better at it than some of his friends, just because she could. Determined and stubborn, she would never take no for an answer. Not when she was younger, not as a teenager. And not even now, when she was a grown woman.

He had a moment's sympathy for Kenny and almost asked the man if he knew what he was getting into. One look at Kenny and he shook his head, the words dying before they even came to life. There was no doubt in Dale's mind that Kenny knew exactly what he was getting into. And even if he didn't…well, that wasn't Dale's business. What was his business was the sensation of a set of eyes boring into him.

"Would you stop staring at me?"

"Guilty conscience?"

"I'm not going, Lauren. End of discussion."

"Yup. Guilty conscience. And you're going." She turned back into the kitchen, getting the last word in before he could tell her no.

Not that it really mattered because she wouldn't listen to him anyway. He swore under his breath then shot a dirty look at Kenny when he heard the man chuckling.

"Yeah, real funny. Keep it up and I'll break your nose again."

"Not like I haven't gotten used to it this season."

"Hm." Dale raised the beer bottle to his mouth, ready to take a long swallow. Loud music blared to life with an ear-numbing shriek. He jerked in surprise, spilling beer over his hand and down the front of his shirt. Kenny jumped, his head spinning to the side as he stared at the wall. Lauren must have jumped, too…and dropped something, from the sound coming from the kitchen.

"Dammit. Not tonight. I don't need this shit tonight." Dale pushed out of his chair and stormed across to the living room, ready to bang on the wall with his fist.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's my damn
neighbor
." He shouted the last word, hitting the wall hard enough that the picture next to him shook and tilted to the side. He waited then hit the wall again, not stopping until the music quieted.

He could still hear it, but at least it wasn't quite as loud. Kenny and Lauren were both staring at him, their expressions ranging from shock to outright disbelief.

Lauren shook her head, the corners of her mouth tilting in a sympathetic smile. "Wow. Now I know why you call him the neighbor from hell."

"Her."

"What?"

"My neighbor from hell is a
her
. Smurfette."

"Your neighbor's name is Smurfette?"

"Nah. That's just what I call her." Dale fought the grin that wanted to break out on his face. "Her real name is…shit. She told me. What the hell is it? It doesn't matter. She's Smurfette."

"Really?" Lauren tilted her head to the side, watching him, something dangerous sparkling in her eyes. "So what's her story?"

"There is no story. And don't even think about it. You are so way off base, it's not even funny."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to. I know that look."

"What look?"

"That look." Dale pointed at her, frowning. "Like you're up to no good."

Lauren was getting ready to argue, he could tell from the gleam in her eyes and the crooked smile on her face. But a knock on the door, hard and insistent, stopped her. Dale bit back a groan. He knew that knock, knew without a doubt who was at the door.

And he wondered who was the lesser of two evils: his sister, or Smurfette.

The knock sounded again, louder this time. Then he heard a muffled squeal and he had to choke back his laughter, somehow knowing that Smurfette had hit the door hard enough to hurt her hand.

Lauren was still watching him, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Aren't you going to get that?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Smurfette knocked again, not quite as hard as before but still hard enough for the sound to echo through his apartment. Dale's eyes locked with Lauren's, both of them silently daring the other. It was just a question of who would break first and give in.

Lauren took a quick step forward. Dale swore under his breath then turned toward the door before his sister could reach it. He didn't know why, only knew that he didn't want his sister seeing Smurfette. Was it some kind of survival instinct? Or something more basic than that? He wasn't sure and was afraid to look too closely.

He opened the door a few inches, making sure to place his body in the opening between the hall and his living room, blocking Lauren's line of sight. Sure enough, Smurfette was standing in the hall, her hair floating around her in a halo of fire as her blue eyes sparked with anger and impatience. Bright splashes of green and yellow and orange smeared her cheek, her left arm and both hands.

"You knocked one of my paintings over!"

"Yeah? Well, you made me spill my beer."

"Beer? Beer! You're worried about beer? You nearly destroyed my painting!" Her voice rose in pitch, each word louder than the other as she waved her hands in his face. She stepped closer and Dale leaned back, trying to avoid the paint on her hands. He wasn't fast enough; her left hand grazed his jaw, the touch wet and slimy against his skin. She didn't even seem to notice, just kept advancing on him, waving those paint-smeared hands in his face.

"Why? Why do you always do this to me? Why can't you just knock on my door like a normal, civilized, well-mannered, decent human being instead of a Neanderthal? Why?"

"Wow. Smurfette, calm down. It's not that big of a deal." But apparently it was, judging by the way she kept waving her hands, by the volume of her voice. And shit, were those tears in her eyes? No, it couldn't be. She was wound up, yeah. Angry, even. She couldn't have tears in her eyes and be angry at the same time, could she?

Dale fought the urge to look over his shoulder, knowing that Lauren and Kenny were both watching. The last thing he needed was for Lauren to come to the door and ask what was going on, for her to see Smurfette. Christ, he'd never live it down. And then she'd want to invite Smurfette in, probably want to talk to her.

No. No way in hell could he let that happen.

He stepped forward, forcing Smurfette to take a step back. Well, if she was a normal person, she would have stepped back. But Smurfette was anything but normal, he had known that from the very beginning, even before he'd met her. She didn't budge, didn't even blink when Dale's body pressed against hers. And she certainly didn't step back like he expected, so instead of air, he was feeling the soft curves of flesh that she hid beneath the flowing skirt and loose blouse.

The memory of the other day came to life with a heated intensity. Her body, draped over his shoulder; his hands, curled around the softness of her legs. Her fingers, digging into the flesh of his back as she kicked her legs, making him wonder if she'd dig her nails into him if he was stretched on top of her, over her, in her.

And fuck, what the hell was he doing? He'd done his best to push those images, that memory, from his mind. It had been a fluke, completely unlike him, completely out of character. Not that he didn't think that way, but about Smurfette? Hell no. She was the neighbor from hell. He needed his head examined if he was thinking like that about the woman in front of him.

And yeah, he apparently needed his head examined, because the thoughts weren't going away. She was standing in front of him, her eyes shimmering with moisture, her creamy skin turning a deep pink from anger and who knew what else, her hands still waving frantically in the air. She was still talking, he knew because her mouth was moving, but he didn't hear a word she was saying. He just kept thinking that with the way their bodies were pressed together, that it had to be obvious to her what his little brain was thinking, but she was oblivious.

Totally and completely oblivious.

"Dale? Who is it?" Lauren spoke from behind, nudging him in the back as she tried to look over his shoulder. He shifted, doing his best to block her view and push her away at the same time.

"Nobody. Go away."

Smurfette finally stopped talking, her mouth snapping shut with a small click as her eyes rounded in surprise. Something that looked suspiciously close to horror—with maybe a tinge of embarrassment—filled the ocean blue of her eyes, turning them a stormy gray. She raised her hand to her mouth and stepped back.

"OhmyGodI'msosorry." The words came out so fast that they ran together as one single word. Her chest rose with a deep breath, the loose material stretching across her full breasts. And shit, she wasn't wearing a bra.

Holy shit. Why in the hell had he noticed that? He shouldn't have noticed, shouldn't have even been looking.

Lauren finally pushed him out of the way, ducking her head under his arm and moving so she was standing in front of him. Dale clenched his jaw, his back stiffening when he heard Kenny chuckle behind him.

"Hi. I'm Lauren. And you are?"

Smurfette's gaze darted to him, her horror still clear. She shook her head and took a small step back, the toes of her bare feet peeking out from the hem of her skirt. She glanced over her shoulder, no doubt thinking she could bolt back to her apartment and disappear, then slid her gaze to Lauren.