Hot for Fireman (23 page)

“Don’t you got nothin’ low-fat?” Double D complained. “Trying to slim down here.”

“Lowest fat thing I got is a Bud Light.”

“Give it here.”

They all cracked open a beer. “To Hoagie getting back on the force,” said Double D.

“Amen to that,” said Vader. “We’ve missed your chicken curry, hotshot.”

Ryan gave a modest nod. “First thing I’ll make when I get back.”

They all downed their first beer within a matter of seconds. The first twelve-pack disappeared in about ten minutes. Gradually, Ryan relaxed. A pleasant buzz took the place of his thoughts about Katie. Male topics of conversation took over. Vader and Double D told the story of a fire at a Korean restaurant that had nearly taken down an entire strip mall. The firehouse had been offered a lifetime supply of kimchi as a reward. Then Vader described his new truck, a baby-blue Ford 250 with crew cab, six-speaker sound system, and a hydraulic lift. The comfort of masculine companionship lulled Ryan off his guard.

Until Joe the Toe ruined the whole thing.

“How’s our favorite little bar manager?”

Ryan started. “Katie? Why?”

“Merely inquiring. I worry about that girl. She works much too hard.”

“Yes, she does. I keep telling her that, but she doesn’t care what I say. Anyway, I’m staying away from her right now. Brody says I might . . .” Sober, he would have stopped there. But five Bud Lights apparently wanted to tell all his secrets. “Brody says I might be in love with her.”

“Love? You?” Double D guffawed until his belly shook. “Serves you right.” He took another beer from the twelve-pack.

Vader shook his head morosely. “What’s the point of having you back if you’re going to be in love? So much for chicks hanging around the station.”

“Sorry to let you down,” muttered Ryan. He grabbed a handful of chips and dug around for some cheese. “He’s probably full of it anyway.”

“The captain?” Vader shook his head, joined by the others in a mass rejection of that possibility. “The captain knows shit. Lots of shit. If the captain says it, it’s prob’ly true.”

Joe the Toe, his huge feet propped on Ryan’s coffee table, fixed him with a perplexed look. “I don’t quite understand. You say you’re avoiding Katie because your captain says you might be in love with her.”

Ryan winced. Every time he heard those words, they scared him more. “Right.”

“That doesn’t follow. Usually when people are in love, they want to be with each other.”

“Did you lose half your brain along with your toe?” Vader said. “Katie probably hates him.”

“You’re the one who shrunk your brain to a polka dot with all those steroids.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Polka dots could be big or small. See, I’m smarter than you. I’m smarter than you . . .” Vader segued into a whiny chant.

Ryan frowned at them both. “Why would Katie hate me?” Confused he might be, but he knew for damn sure he didn’t want that.

“Have you ever told her how you feel?”

“How could I do that? I don’t even know myself. I still think Brody’s got it wrong.”

“Well, there you are, then.”

“Where am I?” Ryan rubbed his forehead and frowned at the pile of beer cans that had robbed him of his reasoning ability.

“Have you slept with her?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“It doesn’t take an Oxford degree to know sex changes everything.”

Ryan groaned. “I know that.” With a sympathetic, poor-bastard nod, Vader tossed him another beer.

Joe the Toe crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Vader, who must be a sort of steroid-induced idiot savant, has put his finger on the problem. Katie hates you because she loves you, but doesn’t realize you are very likely—according to the captain—in love with her. You’re breaking her heart.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he hangover encased Ryan’s head in a ball of nasty fiberglass insulation. Clouds of fluff filled his brain—fluff spun from shards of glass. Every time he blinked, slivers of glass seemed to slice through his eyes. Damn. How much had he and the guys drunk last night?

Ryan rolled off his bed and landed on a body. On the floor next to his bed, Vader was splayed out like a frog about to get dissected. He groaned feebly. Ryan quickly rolled onto the floor. Vader went back to sleep.

Ryan picked his way through the snoring, wheezing bodies littering his house. Double D was slumped against the couch. Joe the Toe, who had rolled a Turkish rug around his bulk, blocked the entrance to the kitchen.

Bracing himself, Ryan jumped over the enormous lump of rug-covered black guy. As he feared, the impact of his landing sent spikes of vengeful pain through his brain. He whimpered and crept to the sink, where he downed two tall glasses of water in quick succession. He found some aspirin in the cupboard and took four of those. Coffee seemed debatable. But the guys might want some when they surfaced. So he pulled his can of Yuban coffee out of the freezer and gently poured some in the filter. Soft and slow, that was the ticket. Nothing sudden. Nothing harsh.

He limped to the kitchen table and put his head in his hands.

Worst hangover ever? Maybe. His memories hid behind a veil of fiberglass. It took too much energy to track them down. Instead he sat dully at the table and waited for the aspirin to kick in.

Bit by bit, scraps of conversation from last night floated to the surface. Vader’s truck. The ragging he’d received on account of its being baby blue.

“Blue means boy,” he’d said, furious.

“Guess that makes you a baby boy then.“

“Chicks dig it.”

“That’s because chicks dig babies.”

Sometime after that had come Joe the Toe’s rant about Britney Spears. “She’s part of America’s nefarious attempt to corrupt the taste and aesthetics of the rest of us, until we can no longer distinguish good from bad, in fact the words have no more meaning.”

“Hey,” Ryan had protested. “Doesn’t Lady Gaga make up for Britney Spears?”

Joe the Toe had turned as purple as a black man could.

One memory kept circling around his bruised and battered consciousness. It had to do with Katie. They’d talked about Katie. His stomach tightened at the thought. It had been upsetting. It had led him to drink many, many more Bud Lights and to dig into his stash of tequila. It had to do with . . .

And then it all came back to him. Katie loved him, and he was breaking her heart. Breaking Katie’s heart? The thought of causing her pain hurt more than his hangover. He stood up in the empty kitchen. He needed to go to her this minute and tell her she should stop it, right now. Stop loving him. Stop breaking her heart. He’d go to her apartment and knock on her door. She’d open it, maybe in her pirate undies, maybe with her hair all tumbled around her face, maybe with her big dark eyes all heavy with sleep, her face pink, with marks on her cheek from lying on a book. She’d frown at him and push her hair behind her ears.
What are you doing here?
she’d ask.

And he’d take her in his arms and kiss her all over her sleepy little head . . .

Oh shit.

Electric knowledge shafted through him. He
was
in love with Katie, like the captain said. He loved being with her—he felt better when he was with her, more alive, more himself. He wanted to protect her and take care of her and never leave her. She’d snuck her way into his heart, made a place for herself, and stubbornly dug in her heels, as only Katie could do.

He took a step toward the door, still blocked by the snoring Joe the Toe. The movement sent a needle of queasiness through his head, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He checked the clock on the kitchen stove. Eleven o’clock. Katie was probably getting ready to head to the Hair of the Dog
.

Which reminded him. The “hair of the dog” was a stupid concept. Did anyone really believe more alcohol was the solution to this misery? Maybe they should change the name of the bar to something more sensible. Like Never Drink Again. Or Alcohol Is Poison. He’d discuss that issue with Katie after he told her he loved her and they figured out what ought to happen next.

Realizing he still wore his clothes from last night, and that they smelled like the Dumpster at the Hair of the Dog, he stumbled over Joe and went back to his bedroom to change. You couldn’t declare your love smelling like a homeless man. Then again, Katie liked the offbeat and the unusual. She probably wouldn’t mind. Warmth filled him at the thought of her, with her graceful body hidden under her tomboy clothes, and her frown disguising the biggest heart he’d ever known.

Life with Katie would be one fun-filled roller-coaster ride.

He pulled a clean San Gabriel FD T-shirt from his drawer. Surprisingly, the thought of life with one woman didn’t freak him out. It made him feel relaxed. Safe.

Strange.

Pulling on the T-shirt, he almost didn’t hear his cell phone ring. When his head came free, the phone was winging through the air toward him.

“Goddamn freaking loud-ass cell phone,” grumbled Vader.

“All right, all right. Go back to sleep.” Ryan clicked on the phone.

“Ryan, it’s Melissa. I’ve got an emergency and I need you to take Danielle for an hour. Can you? Please?”

Ryan groaned. “I’m busy, Melissa. I’m about to do something important. Really important.”

“An errand? No problem. Take her with you. I’ll owe you, Ryan. Please, please, please . . .”

“Fine.” He could talk to Katie with Danielle around. Put the kid in the corner with some crayons or something. “Bring her over.”

“She’s here. We’re at the door.”

Ten minutes later, Ryan and Danielle were in his Chevy, driving toward the Hair of the Dog
.
Thank God he’d taken four aspirin, because her excited chatter alone would have required two. She’d just gotten an inhaler and couldn’t wait to tell him all about it.

“It’s only for ’mergencies. Like this.” She made herself wheeze until her face turned red.

“Yikes. That’s pretty scary.”

“Uh huh.
Weally
scary. Scarier than a ghost or a . . . a vampire.”

“What do you know about vampires?”

“They have giant fangs like this!” She clenched her little hands into claws at her mouth. Bloodthirsty little thing.

Ryan drew the conversation back to more important matters. “Danielle, when we get to where we’re going, I need to talk to Katie about something kind of private. Do you think you can be quiet and play by yourself for a little bit?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a grown-up thing. I’ll tell you when you’re older, I promise.”

Danielle sulked and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Ryan eyed her warily. Kids were so unpredictable. Would she throw a tantrum and ruin his moment with Katie? Should he wait until after Danielle was gone? But he couldn’t. He had to share his feelings with Katie. He could hardly wait.

When they reached the Hair of the Dog, he whisked Danielle into his arms and carried her across the sidewalk with long strides. Katie liked the offbeat, he reminded himself. She liked Danielle. She wouldn’t mind if the little girl tagged along while he told her how much he loved her.

Chicks dug babies, after all, according to Double D.

The door was still locked. Damn. No Katie yet.

“Should we wait in the truck?” he asked aloud. Then he remembered the romantic red globe lanterns. “No. I can light some candles. It’ll be even better. Come on, Danielle.”

He unlocked the door and, hoisting Danielle further up on his hip, stepped into the darkness.

“Do vampires live here?” Danielle asked in a wavering voice.

“Nah. Vampires never come to San Gabriel, it’s too sunny.” He switched on a fluorescent light, which added illumination if not cheerfulness to the gloomy interior of the Hair of the Dog.

Danielle shielded her eyes. “Ow.”

“You know something, darlin’? You’re right.” He turned the light off. “Ambience. We need ambience. Let’s light some candles.”

He swung her down to the floor. She held tightly to the leg of his jeans, trotting behind him, as he went to the bar and found a box of matches. He lit one lantern and set it on the scuffed mahogany. A small pool of light lit up her wide-eyed face. The whiff of candle wax drifted into the air. He swung her up onto a bar stool.

“Don’t touch the lantern, okay, doll? They get hot.”

“I won’t,” she promised eagerly.

“And let’s be very quiet so Katie doesn’t know we’re here. We can surprise her.”

“Yeah! A surprise!” Danielle whispered. He smiled down at her little monkey face. What a cutie-pie. Two years ago, he’d never imagined the enigmatic Brody with such an adorable kid. It proved how quickly your life could change.

“You know, Danielle, your dad would probably kick my . . . patootie if he knew you were in here. As soon as Katie gets here, we’ll leave.”

“I don’t want to leave!” She stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Did Katie teach you that trick?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Okay, more lanterns. What else? Maybe some incense. Hang on, sweetie pie. I gotta hunt down some incense. And remember, shhh.”

He put his finger to his lips, then bent down to rummage through the bins under the counter where they kept odds and ends of things that might be useful. A strange bang caught his attention. He straightened up. “Danielle, is that you?”

She blinked at him innocently. He peered over the bar and saw her little foot swinging against the metal legs of the bar stool.

That must have been it. He crouched down again. With his head stuck in the bin, he ignored the sound when he heard it again. Finally he found a long brown stick that must be either incense or a sparkler, though Lord knew how long it had been hanging out here in this bin. He sniffed it. A faint sweet smell still clung to it. And another smell too.

He sniffed again. This time it didn’t smell sweet at all. The other smell had taken over completely. A smoky scent, but the incense wasn’t even lit, so how could it smell smoky?

Oh my God. Smoke.

He surged to his feet.
Danielle.

She was sniffing and scrunching up her face. “What’s that smell?”

The smoke seemed to be coming from the kitchen. In one swift move, he vaulted over the bar. “We have to get out of here, now.” He scooped her off the stool and dashed across the floor. A roaring sound caught his attention. He knew what that sound meant. This fire meant business. Someone must have used a highly flammable accelerant.

Goddamn it. Hadn’t Katie promised to make this insanity stop?

A rim of flickering red outlined the front door. Damn. He might be able to break through, but he couldn’t take a chance with Danielle in his arms. Maybe the kitchen would be better. He whirled around and headed that direction. Danielle was crying now, frightened shrieks that made his gut tighten.

“I’ll get us out, Danielle. Don’t cry. Stay calm, try to stay calm.” From his EMT training, he knew he had to keep her calm to avoid an asthma attack. She clung to him like a monkey, her body trembling.

“Nine-one-one,” he said out loud, yanking his cell phone from his pocket. “Gotta call 911.” He punched the numbers into his phone, but before he could complete the call, Danielle flung out her hand and knocked it to the floor. It went skittering into the dark corner somewhere.

Horrified, he looked down at her little face, lit only by the growing light of the flames at the door. Her screams sounded different now. Short, wheezing, frantic. She looked like she was choking. Her breath came in fast little pants, and seemed to squeeze out of her throat as though she were breathing out of a straw. Her eyes went wild with terror.

The smoke was triggering an attack. Shit. He had to stop it before it got worse. Keep her calm. He ran her to the bar and sat her down on a bar stool.

“Danielle,” he said, with all the reassuring firmness he could manage. “Everything will be all right. Take deep, slow breaths. That’s good, sweetie. Now where is your inhaler? Your inhaler,” he repeated, when she looked at him wildly. “Your Albuterol. The puffer. Where is it?”

But she was too panicked to answer. He patted her pockets, but felt nothing. If he left Danielle to look for it, she might freak out even more. And it would be precious moments lost. What the hell had she done with her inhaler?

“I need you to do something for me, Dani,” he said in his calmest voice. “Take a nice, deep breath, that’s right, nice and slow. Perfect, just like that. Keep breathing, in, out, in out . . . I’m going to get us out of here, don’t worry.”

He cast a desperate glance around the bar. Which was the greater danger, her asthma attack or the fire? The globe lanterns caught his eye. He’d lit four, but he’d left the others alone. And Dani had been playing with them . . .

He jumped up and plunged his hand into each globe until he found a white plastic object.
Thank God.

“Here, sweetie. Breathe into this. You know how to do it.” He put the inhaler up to her mouth. She scrabbled for it and latched her lips to the mouthpiece. He waited what seemed like forever as she took a puff. He took it away, then gave her another puff. After four puffs the wild, panicked look in her eyes had gone. The Albuterol had bought them some time. He stuck the inhaler in his pocket and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

But in the meantime, the roar of the fire had gotten even more intense. They had to get out. No time to look for his cell phone.

He bent down and took Dani’s head in both his hands. He fixed her with his calmest, most commanding look. “Danielle, we’re going to get out of here. All you have to do is keep breathing and stay calm. Okay? No matter what, keep breathing. Just relax now and don’t worry about a thing. I’m going to take care of it. Ready?”

Finally her eyes seemed to focus on him and she nodded. He gave her a quick hug and lifted her back into his arms.

The kitchen. The only other exit was the kitchen. He yanked off his T-shirt and wrapped it around Danielle’s head to keep the smoke away. Then he ran to the other side of the bar. One look inside the swinging door had him backing quickly away. Another fierce line of flames was attacking the rear of the building. Multiple points of origin. This firebug meant business.