Ride the Fire (9 page)

“Stop that,” Zack admonished gently. “Tell us what’s wrong and maybe we can help.”

Eve gave a bitter laugh. “That’s just it—you can’t help. I feel so stupid. I mean, I’m tougher than this, right? I should be able to handle it on my own.”

“Eve,” Cori said softly, “the beauty of having good friends is that you don’t have to be tough. You can fall apart and know you’re safe to do it here.”

That got her. The tears she’d been suppressing on the drive over filled her eyes, overflowed, ran down her cheeks. “I messed up so bad. I might have to transfer to another station, or put in for the Nashville Fire Department. Or Clarksville, or the fucking West Coast. Anywhere but here.”

“You slept with Sean, didn’t you?” Zack asked quietly, no hint of accusation in his tone.

“I’m such a moron.” Eve buried her face in her hands. “I love him.”

She broke down then. Cried as she hadn’t since she was twelve and a boy at school had called her Oreo—black on the outside, white in the middle. She’d been shocked to the core because her skin wasn’t much darker than his, her eyes blue. But that hadn’t stopped the hateful slurs the scum and his posse had thrown her way for the next couple of years until high school, when she’d outgrown her awkwardness and blossomed. And gained her confidence to boot.

This hurt so much more, her insides being ripped apart.

Cori’s voice broke through her misery as she handed Eve a tissue. “Sweetie, what did he say to you? Was he mean?”

Eve took it and wiped her face. “Would’ve been easier if he were. I can fight against mean, you know? But no, he was nice. He can’t drag me into the cesspool of his life, blah, blah. I’m an incredible woman, and, drumroll, ‘we’re still friends.’ ”

“That bastard,” Zack hissed. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No!” Panic seized her. “You can’t let on that you know! If you do, the others will find out and things will get out of hand. Promise me you won’t say anything to him.”

Her handsome, dark-haired friend visibly struggled with her request for several long moments before pinning her with laser blue eyes and giving her knee a squeeze. “All right. For you, I’ll keep it to myself—unless he asks for it by hurting you again.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a hug, which he returned, hard.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” he whispered into her hair.

“It’s partly my fault. I knew what I was facing and I bit the apple anyway.”

“How long have you loved him?”

“Always.” Her voice shook. “Even when I had no right. And
surprise
, I still don’t.”

“Are you really thinking of putting in for a transfer?”

“Yeah. I think it’s for the best.” She straightened, letting go of him. “I can’t carry these feelings around with me anymore and face him every shift. It’s too hard, especially now.”

His expression fell, became immeasurably sad. “I wish it didn’t have to come to that, but I understand.”

“Thanks.”

“When will you make the move?”

“As soon as I tell him. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, he deserves to hear it from me, beforehand.” The very thought of leaving Station Five, her home these past several years, caused a hollow ache inside. But as she’d told Zack, it was partially her fault.

“Stay and have some breakfast,” Cori offered. “We have bacon and eggs.”

Eve’s stomach lurched. “There’s no way I could eat, but thank you, both of you.”

“Coffee, then?” Zack’s jaw tightened in stubbornness. “You’re not going anywhere until we’re one hundred percent sure you’re all right.”

In that case, she could be here for eternity.

She mustered a wobbly smile. “Coffee sounds fine.”

And so went the morning of turnabout, Eve doing her best to reassure her friends she was fine when nothing could be further from the truth. She was dying inside. Her love for Sean wasn’t just a festering secret anymore; it was an open, bleeding wound.

And she was the one responsible for handing him the power to deliver it.

She left her purse in the car and locked up. This wasn’t going to take long.

At the front door, she rang the bell and waited. After a few moments she tried again, and still no sign of Sean. Of course he wouldn’t come to the door and let her get this over with, especially when her nerves were shot. Always the hard way with Sean.

A nicker from around back caught her ear and she tensed. If he was outside, even better. Might make this go quicker and make for a faster exit. Leaving the porch, she walked around the side of the house. As soon as she rounded the corner, she saw his long, lean form sprawled in a lounger, the backrest propped upright. His head was back, and as she got closer, she saw his eyes were open, staring at the pasture and the horses, who were observing her approach curiously.

Her running shoes were making plenty of noise crunching through the grass, so she couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t turned his head to see who was approaching. Reaching the deck, she ascended the three steps, skirted his chair to face him . . . and a cry of dismay escaped her lips when she spied the small table beside him.

“No! Jack Daniel’s? What are you thinking?” A highball glass sat beside the bottle, half-full of amber liquid.

He raised his eyes and blinked slowly, as though noticing her for the first time. “Why are you here?”

She flinched. “That can wait. Why do you have a gallon of whiskey? Tell me you didn’t go out and buy this.”

“Sunday. Liquor stores are closed.”

“Then where did you get the bottle, Sean?”

“It was a gift. From someone who hates me.” His laugh was harsh, his eyes bleak. “And no, I haven’t taken a drink.”

“There’s whiskey in the glass,” she pointed out.

“Didn’t say I didn’t
want
to.”

She took a cautious step forward, scrambling to make sense of this. “Back up. How exactly did you come into possession of the bottle?”

“You sound like a detective,” he said dully. “Maybe that’s what I need.”

His attitude scared her. “Answer the damned question.”

“I never picked up my mail yesterday. When I got home this morning, there was a package wrapped in brown paper sitting beside the mailbox. I brought it in, opened it, and found the bottle inside.”

“That’s it? Why would you say someone hates you? Could be from an old friend who doesn’t know you’re on the wagon.” She didn’t really believe that, though, and from his expression neither did he. Something else was going on.

Without a word, he reached behind the bottle and picked up something from the table. A photograph. Since it had been lying facedown, she hadn’t seen it before. He simply handed it over, and waited.

Flipping it over, she peered at the pic, frowning. A big fire, obviously. Involving a truck? What . . . ?

The instant she realized what she was looking at, the blood drained from her face. “Oh my God.” Cold horror gripped her and her knees grew weak. She sat heavily in the lounger beside his, staring at the hideous photo.

“Someone watched my family die. Took a fucking picture and sent it to me two years later.” He looked at her with wrecked eyes, voice cracking. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, reaching out to grab his hand. “But considering this and the phone call that upset you the other day, I think we need to call the police.”

“What can some beat cop do? I haven’t actually been threatened and there’s no real proof this is anything but meanness.”

“First, we’re not going to call a uniform. We’re going to use our tie to the police department and go straight to the guys who can really help.” Her tone brooked no argument. “I’ll make the call. Can I use your phone? I left my cell phone in my purse, in the car.”

He nodded, looking lost. No way could she address the real reason she’d come. Not now.

“I’ll be right back. In the meantime, don’t touch the bottle or that glass anymore. If someone hates you that much, the whiskey could be tainted. Did you think of that?”

His eyes widened. “No, I didn’t. But the bottle was sealed. . . .”

“That doesn’t mean squat. Just sit tight until I get back.”

Slipping inside the house through the sliding glass door, she went straight to the phone sitting on the far end of the kitchen counter. Picked it up and scrolled through the numbers on his speed dial. She found the one she was looking for with no trouble. As captain, Sean kept all of his team’s numbers handy, and as she’d guessed, this one was still included.

Tommy Skyler answered on the third ring. “Hey, Cap! What’s up?”

She smiled at the way he still called Sean “Cap” even though Skyler was now working in Arson. “Wrong person. It’s me, Eve.”

A pause. “Eve? Oh! What’s going on?” His voice was cheerful, but clearly puzzled about why she was calling from Sean’s number.

“I have sort of a situation here and I need your help, old friend.”

“Sure—shit, he’s not drinking, is he?” he asked in alarm.

“No, but there’s some stuff going on that needs to go on record with the cops. Preferably a detective.”

She proceeded to tell her former teammate about Sean’s phone call, the awful “gift” in the box, and the implications. When she was finished, Tommy cursed softly and got right on board, just as she’d known he would.

“I’ll call Shane right now,” he said, referring to Detective Shane Ford. His future brother-in-law, and a good man who’d helped out the guys at Station Five more than once. “He’s in Homicide, but I know he’ll send someone out to talk with Sean. Someone good, whom he trusts.”

“You don’t know how much that means, buddy. Thank you.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Not great, but hanging in there.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. I’ll stop by and see him in the next day or so.”

“I know he’d like that. He needs his friends around him.”

“Is that what you still are, Eve? Just a friend?”

Crap. “What makes you ask that question?”

“My eyes worked just fine when I was at Station Five,” he said, a trace of wry humor in his voice. “And you’re there, protecting him from the boogeyman. Gonna spill?”

“That’s a story I’ll have to tell you another day.”

“Aha! So there is a story.”

“Bye, Tommy,” she said softly. “And thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

She hung up, thinking she missed the kid, missed his constant teasing and flirting. But for all his acting like a big, goofy puppy, Tommy was a very perceptive, intelligent man. Much too perceptive.

And she was a fool for letting Sean Tanner rule her heart.

“I’m not joking.” Those dark eyes held his. “A piece of ass can be had anywhere, but the respect a leader commands from his men, the power he holds? Better than any orgasm.”

Sean stared at his friend, not liking the implication of those words. “And you think a weapon will get you respect and power? You don’t get those things by using force, Jess. They’re earned, not commanded.”

“Semantics. How you get them isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?”

Jesse stared at him so long, he began to feel weird. Like what his friend said next might change everything.

“The point is what you do with them once you have them. Let me ask you something. . . . Do you believe every person has the right to eat, to have clothing and shelter, to defend themselves? No matter what country they′re from?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I’m here, serving our country?”

“And if you found out the country you so proudly serve gives with one hand and takes with the other, same as it’s done since it beat the shit out of the Native Americans? If you found out that not a fucking thing has changed and that soldiers like you and me are feeding into a warped system designed to kill the ones we’re supposedly trying to help? What then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jesus.

“Oh, come on. Rip off those goddamned rose-colored glasses, my friend, and answer my question.”

He knew damned well there was more than a grain of truth to what Jesse claimed. History spoke for itself. “Sure, our government does some stuff I don’t agree with. But we’re just the peons, and I don’t know what either of us could do to change that.”

“But if you could right those wrongs, would you?”

“Christ, I don’t know,” he muttered irritably. “I suppose. Can we drop this?”

A smile played about Jesse’s lips. “For now. I’ve got big plans for us, though.”

“Whatever.”

Much later, as he mulled over the conversation, he worried about what Jesse was up to. And whether the man took his answer to heart.