Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) (6 page)

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you had company. I'm sorry. I'll just go back—" Smurfette turned and almost lunged toward her door, seeking escape. Her hand closed over the knob and turned, but nothing happened. Dale watched, biting back a smile as she kept trying to turn the handle with no luck.

"Lock yourself out again?"

She turned and glared at him, the expression almost comical. Then she frowned, shaking her head. "I don't understand. I didn't think it was locked. I could have sworn—"

"Don't worry about it. You can come join us, we'll figure something out." Lauren made the offer before Dale could stop her. Damn his sister. What did she think she was doing?

He was afraid he knew exactly what she was doing.

"No, I couldn't. That would be so rude. I don't want to interrupt your—" Smurfette paused, her eyes darting back and forth between Lauren and him. "Your date."

"Date?" Lauren laughed, the sound too loud. Damn her, why couldn't she have just let Smurfette think what she was thinking? "Trust me, this isn't a date. I'm Dale's sister."

Smurfette looked over at him. "Dale? Your name is Dale?"

Great, now she knew his name, too. Not that it was a big deal, but he kind of liked the idea that she didn't know who he was.

Lauren kicked him in the foot and gave him a dirty look, then smiled at Smurfette. "Yeah, his name is Dale. And I'm Lauren. Why don't you come inside and get cleaned up and we can figure out how to get you back into your apartment." Lauren grabbed her elbow, careful to avoid the drying paint that covered Smurfette as she led her past Dale and into his apartment. She kicked him again when she pushed by him. Literally pushed, hard enough that he stumbled back against the door.

"What was that for?" He would have had better luck getting an answer from the wall because Lauren ignored him. This was so not what he needed. Not only was Smurfette now in his apartment, his sister was attaching herself to the woman. He didn't know what was going on in Lauren's head, but the gleam in her eye and bright smile could only mean one thing: trouble.

Dale shut the door with a little more force than necessary. Smurfette jumped and glanced over at him but Lauren merely smiled. "Dale, go get a towel or something."

"Really, that's not necessary. I don't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing. It's the least my brother can do for knocking your painting over. It was one you were working on, right? It must be, for you to be covered in paint. And I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name?"

Smurfette's eyes widened, no doubt completely caught off-guard by Lauren. Dale couldn't help but sympathize because he was a little caught off-guard, too. What the hell was Lauren up to?

"Uh, Melanie. Melanie Reeves."

"Nice to meet you, Melanie. Here, have a seat and Dale will be right back with those towels." Lauren leveled a frown in his direction. "Won't you, Dale?"

He frowned back at her then moved past them into the kitchen, grabbing two towels from the drawer and hurrying back into the dining room. No way did he want to leave them alone any longer than necessary. He tossed the towels at Lauren, smothering a laugh when they smacked her in the face. She gave him a dirty look then turned her back on him.

Kenny yanked on the waistband of his jeans, hard enough that Dale almost fell into the chair next to him. "Smooth. Real smooth. You're lucky she didn't throw them back at you."

"You're not helping." Dale muttered the words, trying to keep his voice low. Why, he didn't know, since Lauren and Smurfette were mere feet away.

"So. You're an artist?"

"Uh, yes. I am. A painter."

"Cool. I've never met an artist before. Have you, guys?" Lauren glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed as she shot them both a look. Dale had no idea what she was doing, what she was up to, and he was tired of playing games.

"Lauren, enough." He stood up and grabbed the towel from her hands then passed it to Smurfette. She took the towel from him, her eyes wide and uncertain as their gazes locked. "Is your kitchen door still unlocked?"

"Yes."

"Even though I told you to lock it. Why am I not surprised? Come on, you can wait in the hall. I'll go jump the balcony again." He reached for her hand but Lauren was faster, knocking it away.

"Jump her balcony? Again?"

"Yeah. This isn't the first time Smurfette's locked herself out."

"It was just the one time. And I was doing fine. I would have been fine. You didn't have to rescue me—"

"You were stretched between the two railings like someone on the rack, fretting that you were going to die."

Smurfette straightened, her posture regal and defiant. "I most certainly was not."

Dale snorted. "Yeah, okay. You're not fooling anyone. I was there, remember? Now, come on." He reached for her hand again but once more, Lauren stopped him.

"Since you know how to get into her place, you go take care of that. Take Kenny with you and Melanie will stay here with me."

An icy blast of something that might have been fear ripped through Dale. Lauren's words were low on the list of words he didn't want to hear. Not just low; probably dead last. Especially with the calculating gleam in her eyes. He wanted to pull her to her feet and drag her back to the bedroom and yell at her until she told him what she was up to. Not that that would do any good because Dale was positive she wouldn't answer him, no matter how much he yelled.

"Lauren—"

"Or we could sit here and continue our discussion about our sister."

Dale bit back a curse, his jaw clenched so hard that a sharp pain shot along the side of his face. Damn her. Why was she even doing this? He couldn't believe that Lauren would stoop to blackmail, even about Lindsay. And it's not like the threat really meant anything, not when he knew they'd end up having another discussion anyway. And another, and another, until Dale finally gave in.

He ground his teeth together then headed for the door, pausing to look back at Kenny. "You coming?"

"You really need me—"

"Yes he does. Now go." Lauren gave him some indecipherable look that Kenny must have understood because he followed Dale out the door and down the stairs, out into the damp night air.

"What the hell is my sister up to?"

"I have no idea."

"I don't like the idea of her upstairs with Smurfette. By themselves." Dale moved to the balcony, looking up at it.

"Why do you call her that?"

"Did you see the paint all over her?"

"Yeah."

"The first time I met her, the paint was blue." Dale grinned. "Reminded me of Smurfette."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't even hear that."

"Oh, come on. Smurfette was cute. Her voice was annoying as hell, but she was still cute."

"Now you're just scaring me."

Dale grinned again then jumped up, his hands closing around the spindles. He kicked out with his legs then swung them over the railing, landing with a soft thud. He looked down at Kenny, still smiling. "You coming?"

"How about I just meet you upstairs? It's not like you need me to help open the door."

"Fine. I'll just Lauren you wimped out."

"What is this, some kind of payback for something?"

"If I have to do this, so do you. Come on, get up here." Dale stepped out of the way, watching as Kenny climbed the balcony in much the same way he did. Then he turned and opened the door, stepping into the large eat-in kitchen, Kenny right behind him. The room looked just like it did the other time he'd been in here. Warm and cozy, with a colorful hooked rug covering the tile floor. The walls were painted a warm shade of yellow with splashes of bright red in the curtains and bold prints hanging on the wall. Even the canisters on the counter were red, a hodge podge collection of apples and roosters that shouldn't really go together but did.

"Interesting decorating choices."

"Wait until you see the rest of the place." Dale led the way out of the kitchen, smiling when he heard Kenny stumble to a stop behind him.

"Holy shit."

"Told you."

A small loveseat was tucked into the corner of what should have been the dining room, next to a compact stereo and a rack full of music CDs. The rest of the apartment—part of the dining room area and the entire living room—was empty of real furniture. At least, functional furniture, unless you counted the small table next to the door. There was a small bench along the far wall, shelving storage units on either side of the sliding glass doors, and a long table shoved against the wall adjacent to the kitchen. The rest of the space was empty.

But it was anything but plain, not with the multitude of colors surrounding them. Bright splashes, dark splashes. Greens, blues, reds, yellows, oranges. Even blacks and grays. Color was everywhere, like a rainbow on steroids had exploded into a million different pieces and landed on every available surface.

There was color on the canvases scattered around the room and on the walls, propped in the corner and on easels here and there. Puddles of color on the canvas drop cloth that covered the floor. Color smeared on the long table and even on the storage units filled with brushes and paints and jars and who knew what else.

"Holy shit," Kenny repeated, amazement and disbelief clear in his lowered voice. He moved into the room, studying several pieces, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked back at Dale and grinned. "These are actually pretty good."

"You can't be serious."
Good
wasn't the word that came to mind when he looked at them. He didn't know what word came to mind. Hectic. Scattered. Unfocused.

Bright. Definitely bright.

"Yeah. These are really good."

"How would you even know that?"

"I took a couple of art classes in college."

"Please don't tell me you were into painting nudes."

"No. I studied art, not painted it. Art history, art appreciation. Shit like that. It was actually pretty cool. And I'm telling you, these are pretty good."

"I'll take your word for it." Dale moved toward the door, making sure it was unlocked before he opened it. "Come on, I want to get back. I don't like the idea of Lauren being alone with Smurfette."

"Wait, hang on." Kenny moved across the room, his head tilted to the side as he studied one painting in particular. The colors were bright yet somehow muted, the brush strokes bold and defiant—except for the smear running down the middle.

That must be the painting she had been working on, the one he had somehow caused to fall over. Guilt swept through him, cold and sharp, followed by a bitter sense of loss as he studied the painting. The emotions made no sense. Maybe he had been responsible for knocking the painting over. Maybe he had hit the wall too hard.

And it was just as likely that she hadn't had the canvas propped up right, that she had somehow knocked it over herself.

Maybe. The excuse didn't sit well with him, not when it was just that: a lame excuse. He cleared his throat to get Kenny's attention. "You ready?"

"Yeah." The other man straightened then closed the distance between them. "That's a shame, I really like that one. There's something very powerful about it, even with the smear. I might offer to buy it from her anyway."

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Kenny looked at him, truly puzzled. Dale didn't bother to answer. He couldn't, not when he was trying to figure out why the thought of Kenny owning anything of Smurfette's sat like a slab of concrete in his gut.

Ridiculous.

He held the door open for Kenny then tested the knob once more, just to make sure it was really unlocked, before closing it. Ten seconds later they were back in his own apartment. The sight that greeted them made him stumble to a stop, his gut twisting again.

Lauren and Smurfette were sitting next to each other on the sofa, laughing at something. The sound of her laughter was music, high and tinkling, almost like crystal. Dale blinked, silently swearing when the smile on Smurfette's face faded and disappeared when she turned and saw him standing there.

He cleared his throat and tried to look away, forcing his gaze to focus on something just behind her. "Alright Smurfette, you can go home. Your door's unlocked again."

"Melanie's staying for a little longer, until we finish our wine." Lauren held up her full glass. Where in the hell had she found wine? Dale didn't drink it, didn't have any in the house.

No, that was wrong. There had been a bottle in the back of the cabinet, left over from the last time Lauren and Kenny had been by. Leave it to Lauren to find it and bring it out, to offer it to Smurfette. Dale just hoped she was a fast drinker.

"Guess what, guys? Melanie has never been to a hockey game. She's never even seen one before."

"Why am I not surprised?" Dale muttered the words as he moved past them to the dining room, looking for his beer. From the look on Lauren's face, he must have been louder than he realized. She frowned at him, but only for a second because her expression cleared, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

She raised her glass and touched it against Smurfette's then took a small sip. Dale grabbed his own beer, ready to drain it.