Ride the Fire (4 page)

He stared at her. “Of course I did.”

“Then
let
it be enough. You can’t save everyone, but you saved that little girl’s father. You impacted lives today, and a family is safe because of you. Own it, and let it be enough.”

He returned her gaze steadily for a long moment. Then a slow smile lit his face, made her breath leave her lungs. The sadness still lurked, but it was diminished.

“Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that.”

God, she wanted to take him into her arms, love him the way he deserved. She settled for a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Jeez, you guys are a lot of work. It’s enough to drive a girl crazy. Can we get out of here?”

“You bet.” He gave her a wink and climbed into the truck.

Climbing in her side of the vehicle, it struck her suddenly that he’d never again be the man he’d been before.

Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen, miles down the road.

Never in all his years in the department had he seen those fugly navy blue pants look so goddamned fine on anybody. There ought to be a law. Probably was.

The woman was poetry in motion this afternoon, pulling people out of the water left and right. Braving gas, flames, and smoke, saving lives just as every one of them was trained to do. Nothing he hadn’t watched her—hell, the whole team—perform countless times before.

But he’d never
watched
Eve, fully appreciated the sheer beauty of her in motion, before today. Like for years he’d had on blinders that allowed him to view her only as one of the boys and they’d been abruptly stripped away. Okay, if he was honest, the blinders had been peeling away for months—it was just that now he was sober and able to realize it.

He tried to picture Blair jumping in a freezing river to save total strangers and was disturbed to find he couldn’t. The thought seemed somehow unfair and disloyal. Blair had been a completely different person from Eve.

He was starting to see just how different. As if a basket case like himself had a chance with a woman like Eve. God, that sweet little girl, Jenny, looked so much like his Mia it had torn out his heart. If he hadn’t been able to get to her, he didn’t know what he would’ve—

“You coming to the Waterin’ Hole tomorrow night?” Eve asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“I guess so.” He shrugged a shoulder, covering his surprise. “No one told me about it.” That hurt more than he cared to admit.

“Well, that didn’t sound defensive or anything.”

“What am I supposed to say? The guys haven’t breathed a word,” he muttered. “Maybe they don’t want me there.” Glancing over, he found her giving him an irritable glare.

“What do you want, an engraved invitation? I’m telling you now, ding-dong. Wasn’t like it was planned in advance or anything. Jules and Clay cooked up the idea this morning and said to pass it on, whoever wants to come. Dates, too.”

“You bringing one?” O-kay. That came out a lot sharper than he intended.

“A date?” She said the word as if it were an alien concept.

“No, a moose.” He snorted. “Yes, a date.”

“You don’t have to get pissy.”

“I’m not pissy!” Much.

“Are, too.” She paused, smirking when he glanced at her. “Maybe I’ll bring Drake, if he’s free.”

“What, the nerdy little teacher guy? He doesn’t exactly fit in with us.”

“He fits in just fine, and he’s
not
little,” she drawled in a tone that suggested the man sported a ten-inch dick.

Against his will, his blood started to boil. “You said Drake was just a friend,” he pointed out. There. See him be reasonable.

The witch blinked at him, the picture of innocence. “When did I say that?”

“I . . . I don’t know. A while back, but you did say it.”

“Oh. If it’s been a while, I can’t be held accountable for what I said. Things change, you know.”

If he’d been Superman, he would’ve bent the steering wheel in half. The thought of Drake’s skinny neck between his hands was much more satisfying. He’d squeeze until the pip-squeak’s eyes bugged out—

“Yeah, I might give him a call,” she said, almost to herself.

“You do that.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Fuck! What the hell just happened here? Women were so fucking difficult! He should stick to his horses; they couldn’t talk. Still, some perverse and insanely jealous devil on his shoulder made him ask.

“Eve?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m your friend, right?”

Her voice softened, snarky tone gone. “Are you kidding? After all we’ve been through? We’re friends. Believe that.”

“Then go with me tomorrow night.”

“What? Like,
with
you?” Her voice rose on the last two words, incredulous.

Yes! Finally, he’d penetrated her armor and gotten her attention.

“Sure, with me. Two friends going to hang with the others. Why not?”

“Well . . . sure. Okay, why not?” She sounded as amazed as he felt.

“Great. I’ll pick you up around seven?”

She blinked at him. “Sounds good.”

And that would be the end of that Drake bullshit. Eve wanted a friend to blow the evening with? She had one right here, no need for that wimpy little flake. Sue him, but he felt pretty darned smug about derailing her plan before it was put into action.

That settled, his mind drifted back to the guys not telling him about the upcoming night out. And he hated the logical conclusion.

“Eve, I’m not going to fall off the wagon, if that’s what they’re worried about. I’ve come too far to fuck myself up.” If he said that a hundred more times, it would be true.

“I’d be lying if I claimed they weren’t concerned, but I swear to you nobody was going to keep it a secret,” she insisted. “We all know you need us to be real around you. We’ve discussed it.”

Wasn’t that special? Another top secret “Help Sean Recover” op. What a mortifying thought. But at least they cared and supported him, which was more than many recovering alcoholics had going for them. More than that, they were his family.

“I appreciate it,” he said, more to ease her mind than his own.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, and once back at the station, the guys and Eve drifted off to get dry and then tackle various chores. After changing out of his wet clothes, Sean headed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, just what he needed to chase away the chill from the river.

“Oh
yeah
.” He made a beeline to the pot, already filling with the aromatic brew, and stepped around Six-Pack and Clay, who were lounging against the kitchen counter. “Is this the good stuff?”

“Starbucks, man.” Six-Pack crossed his arms over his massive chest, grinning. “You know I won’t stock anything else.”

“I always knew you were good for something besides taking up lots of space.”

“And for his cooking,” Clay pointed out with enthusiasm. “It’s the big guy’s turn tonight, too. What are we having?”

Six-Pack rolled his eyes. “You’re nothin’ but a giant stomach.”

“There’s only one thing giant on me, bud, and it
ain’t
my belly,” their friend drawled, eyes dancing with humor. “Just ask Cherie, Beth, Stacy—or was it Tracy? Hmm.”

“Man, don’t you take medication or something? Your attention span is shorter than Julian’s and that’s saying a lot.” The lieutenant snorted and shook his head. To Sean, he joked, “It’s a damned good thing he’s pretty, ’cause he doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” Clay batted his eyelashes and draped an arm over Six-Pack’s shoulders. “That’s so sweet!”

“Get off me before I hurt you.” His laugh ruined the menacing tone.

Chuckling, Sean fished in the cupboard, grabbing his favorite mug, which declared
I AM the Boss of You
, and pulled the old switchola with the pot, deftly replacing it with his mug.

“Hey, no cuts!” Clay yelled good-naturedly.

Sean replaced the pot and held up his mug, tapping the saying on the front and taking a sip. With a groan of appreciation, he wrapped his hands around it, soaking up the warmth. “Good stuff. Funny how everything tastes better when you’re sober.”

The other two glanced at him in surprise and he gave them a half smile. Best to keep things out in the open and dialogue flowing rather than treat the issue like the elephant in the room. He wanted the guys to talk
to
him, not around him.

“I’ll bet it does. Which reminds me,” Six-Pack said, giving Sean a meaningful look. “A bunch of us are heading over to the Waterin’ Hole tomorrow night. You want to come?”

“Eve mentioned it.” He took another sip. “And yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Can you handle the booze being everywhere?” Leave it to his best friend to cut through the bull. But that was one of the guy’s finest qualities, among many.

“I don’t have a choice. It’s coffee, tea, and soda for me now, just like you.” Like Sean, Howard didn’t drink. Except the lieutenant’s choice was due to a horrible childhood at the hands of the drunken, violent stepfather who’d raised him. “Won’t be a picnic, but it’ll help some that I won’t be the only one not drinking.”

“I’ve got your back.”

“Me, too,” Clay piped up.

“Thanks, guys. I’m looking forward to going out again, with my head screwed on straight. Anyway, guess I’d better get on that report from the boating accident, huh?” He made a face. “That bitch is going to take all evening.”

“Want some help?” Six-Pack asked.

“Naw, you’ve got dinner. I’ll handle it.”

He left them in the kitchen, talking in low tones, and wondered uncomfortably if he was the topic of conversation, as he’d no doubt been many times. For sure, he’d be under a microscope for a while, especially off duty, but he had no one to blame but himself. Briefly, he worried what they’d think when he showed up with Eve, then decided he didn’t care. She was his friend, just like one of them.

But he’d never had the burning desire to kiss any of the others senseless.

Right. The paperwork. He forced his mind to the task, one of the drawbacks to being captain. Six-Pack had his share as well, but a lot of it fell to himself. Not that he had a right to complain these days—he was simply grateful to have a job.

Once in a while, he glanced up from the computer to his cell phone resting innocently on his desk. The disturbing call from earlier hadn’t been far from his mind all day. That muffled voice, the malicious intent behind his words.

Because no matter the meaning of his statement, the intent was to upset Sean.

If it wasn’t a prank call. Or a wrong number.

He didn’t believe either of those was the case . . . but he could be wrong. He’d been wrong before, at some extremely crucial points in his life.

And each of those times, he’d lost everything he loved.

Cats might have nine lives, but not Sean Tanner.

You fuck up this time around? Everything is gone. Your career, your life.

Everything.

“That’s pretty grim.”

“Life is grim.”

“And when you find out God is real? What then?”

“I’d ask him why he let my father beat my big brother to death, why he didn’t let him grow big enough to put a bullet in the fucker’s brain. That’s what.” With that, Jesse rolled over in his bunk and went to sleep.

Sean never broached the subject again.

Yeah, too bad Prescott, the idiot, had gotten himself killed. He could’ve done more good before his number came up. But such was the way of war.

Jesse ought to know.

Shoving down the bad memories before they could take hold, the rage that always came with the pain of remembered betrayal, he continued to scan the area, noting the ancient but sturdy white frame house nestled at the base of the rolling, wooded hills. Beyond the rise behind the house, about one hundred yards away, he knew there was an equally ancient tobacco barn that had been modified and shored up in advance by some of his men. From the outside, nobody would think the structure to be anything other than what it appeared—a defunct relic of Tennessee history.

Inside, underneath the weathered flooring and protected in a brand-new concrete bunker? A real big, nasty surprise for the good folks of central Tennessee, and more importantly the U.S. government.

Two men stepped onto the front porch, letting the screen door bang shut behind them, and headed toward him. His lieutenants, Grimes and Hammer. Grimes was a thin, wiry guy with long, stringy dark hair and beady eyes, like a rat. Moved like one, too, quiet and furtive. Hammer got his nickname for one obvious reason—the big SOB had a fist like one. Jesse had seen the man kill with a single blow. Both were loyal, as committed to the cause as Jesse.

Grimes clapped his shoulder in greeting, speaking up first. “Been too quiet around here without you to keep the men on their toes. They’re gettin’ antsy.”

Jesse didn’t smile or return the gesture. Any hint of humanity was a leader’s fatal mistake. “They won’t be sitting on their asses much longer. We’ve got plenty of work to do before showtime.” He flicked a hand at the place. “Good setup. Plenty of land, big house with a basement for us and the weapons. Barn for storing our special surprise, nearest neighbors two miles away through the woods. It’s closer to town than I wanted, but I think this will suit our needs just fine.”

“Wasn’t no place else around that met our requirements,” Hammer put in, head back, face expressionless.

“It’ll do.” Jesse started for the house, leaving the men to trail in his wake. “Choose several men to help you get our cargo moved to the barn.”

So much to accomplish, and he was eager to get started. He scented blood in the water, and like any good shark, he was ready to tear into his prey. Almost twenty years of slowly building his army, of gathering intel, carefully planning his vengeance, and he was so near the culmination of his dreams he could taste success. He couldn’t sleep for anticipating the shock and horror on his enemies’ faces—the entire nation’s—when they saw what he’d done. When they experienced the horror of their own making unleashed against them.

When they learned what happens to those who betray Jesse Rose.

Climbing the porch steps, he lifted a hand, rubbed at the puckered scar on his chest just there, beneath his T-shirt. Right over his heart.

The same heart that had almost been blown away, both figuratively and literally, by a man he’d believed to be his best friend.

Jesse learned his lessons well, and he never forgot them. Three years ago, he’d finally put the last of his plans into action. And since he was a patient man, he’d worked toward this day and the ones to come.

I’ve enjoyed watching your downfall, Sean. Trust me, old friend. You haven’t yet begun to suffer.

And suffer he would. Jesse considered it his little side bonus for a job well-done.