Playing With Fire (Firehouse Fourteen Book 2) (12 page)

Except the look on Dave's face told her things weren't going to be fine again for a long time. His brows lowered in an angry slash above his dark eyes and he glowered at her, his fury making her take a step back in shock. And then, before she even saw it coming, he reached out with both hands and grabbed Jay around the shoulders, pushing him into the wall with such force that a picture fell to the floor. Glass shattered, the sound barely heard above her brother's roar.

"Damn you! What the hell are you doing with my sister?" Dave pushed him again and Angie looked on in horror as one of his hands clenched into a fist aimed directly at Jay's chin.

But Jay didn't move, not to block her brother, not to push him away, not to hit him. Not even to defend himself. He just stood there, and Angie knew that if she didn't do something—now!—Jay was just going to take whatever Dave handed him.

She gripped the sheet with one hand and ran toward them, getting between them and pushing her brother back with a hand in the middle of his chest. "Dave, no! Stop!"

"Angie, get out of my way."

"Ang, please, just go back to the room."

She faced Jay, letting him know with one quick look that she would do no such thing, then turned back to her brother. "Dave, stop, please. Just go home."

"Angie, get out of my way."

"Dave, we can talk about this—" But she didn't get to finish because Dave grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Jay, then pushed her to the side. Her feet tangled in the trailing end of the sheet and she stumbled before regaining her balance.

"You fucking asshole! Don't you dare touch her!" Jay suddenly stood between her and Dave, his right arm held behind him, keeping her safely behind his back.

"Me? You're the one who needs to stay off of her! Do you hear me?"

Jay stepped closer, his voice pitched low and dangerous. "Get the hell out of my house. Now."

"Fine. Angie, let's go."

She looked up to find Dave watching her, fury still burning in his eyes, his face still flushed with anger. And she shook her head, just a small movement, because she was afraid to speak, afraid her words would come out on a choke.

Afraid, for just a second, of the man she called brother.

The ensuing silence was deafening, so oppressive that nobody moved. Angie kept her eyes glued to her brother's face, expecting another explosion, but what she saw was worse.

It was like all the life just drained from him in one breath. His shoulders sagged and the fury left his eyes in the space of one blink. And in their place was a despair so sharp that she felt the breath catch in her throat at the sight.

And then everything she saw was gone, replaced with a cool mask of indifference so quickly, she wondered if she had imagined seeing it in the first place. Dave's eyes never left hers as he shook his head and took a step back. Then he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

She remained frozen for another long second before emotion crashed over her, battering her. She gulped in a deep breath, trying to breathe, trying to get her heart to stop pounding so quickly.

"Oh God, I am so sorry. I'm sorry. I can't...I'll get my things and..." Her voice trailed off and she turned away from Jay, unable to meet his gaze, then walked back toward the bedroom. She stopped to pick up the clothes as she went, balling them and holding them against her chest.

"Angie, stop. Come here." Jay stepped around her and pulled the clothes from her hands then dropped them to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, guiding her head to his shoulder before rubbing one hand up and down her back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, stop. It's not your fault, so stop, okay?" His whisper was soft in her ear, his voice low and soothing. Minutes went by before she finally stopped holding herself so rigidly, finally allowed herself to be comforted. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight, afraid to let go, afraid of what had just happened.

Angie closed her eyes, squeezing them tight against the building tears. She needed to leave, knew she should just get dressed and go home, but she couldn't bring herself to move, not just yet.

Not when she felt so safe in Jay's arms.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. Yeah, I'll be fine." Her voice shook, cracking on the last word. Fine? She didn't know if she'd ever be fine again, not after seeing a side to her brother she didn't know existed.

"You don't sound too sure about that."

Angie pulled away from Jay and tried to smile. "I'll be fine, honest."

He studied her, doubt clear in his gray eyes, but didn't question her. Instead he lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss comforting, reassuring. "Why don't you jump in the shower while I fix breakfast?"

Angie shook her head. "Thanks, but I should probably go home."

"Not yet, okay? Give him some time to cool off. Knowing Dave, that might take a while. Okay?"

Angie chewed on her lower lip, not sure what to do, even though she knew Jay was right. She finally nodded and received a small smile back as answer, then moved into the bedroom. But she made it only as far as the bed, where she sat down and stared into nothing.

Jay was right, and not only in what he said. Because hidden under his words, in a tone that even Angie could hear, was the worry that Dave needed more than cooling off. Worry that his anger had been way over the line, extreme even for a protective older brother.

And that scared her more than anything.

A muffled roar sounded overhead, a hungry rumbling that grew louder with each passing second. Heat banked from the ceiling, down to the floor and through the layers of protective gear.

The beast was hungry, feeding.

Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades and down his chest, morphing into steam that simmered against his flesh. Jay dragged the hose line forward, grunting when it snagged on something behind him. He turned in the smoky darkness and yanked, then moved further into the room on his knees.

Mikey came up behind him, shouting something, her voice muffled and unintelligible behind the mask. He shook his head and gave her a curt wave, then aimed the nozzle toward the beast and opened it.

Water sprayed out in a hard stream, attacking the growing flames with a roar of its own. Steam filled the room, blanketing them in moist heat. He dropped to his stomach and ignored the singeing of his ears and neck, never losing sight of his aim.

Something pushed against his shoulder, hard, and he turned. Mikey was pointing up and he looked behind her, swore as he rolled to his back and aimed the nozzle against the flames dancing across the ceiling above them.

Another roar erupted from somewhere deep inside the building, followed by a loud crash. The sound was muted in the smoke and flame, the quality distorted, haunting. Jay clenched his teeth against the building heat and moved the nozzle back and forth, not willing to let the beast win.

The radio crackled next to his ear, echoing the noise from Mike's radio beside him. Shouted orders pierced the roar, telling everyone to pull back.

"Son of a bitch!" Jay shouted, knowing that only Mike might be able to hear him. He pushed up to his knees and kept the water aimed in front of him, knocking back the growing wall of flames as they backed out of the room.

Groaning came from somewhere above them and they both stopped their retreat, looking up through smoke and flame. The sound grew louder, ripping and twisting, the noise mutated by the dense smoke growing thicker around them.

He looked over at Mike and their eyes locked for a brief second before they both dove out of the hallway and down the staircase, each holding the other, pulling, pushing, shoving. The ceiling above them crashed down in a shower of drywall and timber and scorching heat, a pile of burning debris landing where they had been a second before.

"Fuck!" Something crashed hard against Jay's ankle and he kicked it off as scorching heat seared his skin. But they kept moving down the stairwell, following the hose line down and out until daylight greeted them.

Hands grabbed them, pulling them away from the building. Jay brushed them away and stood as he yanked his face mask off, taking deep breaths of the warm summer air.

"Son of a bitch!" He gasped, still filling his lungs. He turned to look at Mikey, to make sure she was okay.

Their eyes met and they both broke into smiles then high-fived each other.

"Saved your ass again. Next round's on you."

"Bullshit. I saved your ass again, next round's on you!" Jay laughed then took a step forward. Pain shot through his ankle, sharp and biting, causing his breath to hiss. He grimaced then tried to shake it off but he wasn't fast enough. Mikey was suddenly by his side, her hand gripping his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, probably just a burn. Something caught my leg when we were face-planting the staircase." He took another step, gingerly testing his weight on his ankle, then took another. Mikey swore then grabbed his arm and dragged it over her shoulder, supporting his weight.

He grimaced but didn't say anything, knowing he'd need her help for at least a few more feet until he could reach the engine. He'd be fine as soon as he could get out of his gear.

They walked toward the engine, Mike helping him step over the various hose lines until they reached the back step. Jay shrugged out of his breathing apparatus then unclipped his coat and dropped it next to the bottle. He undid the clip and Velcro closure of his pants, pulled the suspenders down his arms, then shoved the pants down and pulled his foot from the boot.

There was a dark scorch mark near the bottom hem of the right leg, and he winced when he saw it. He sat on the back step and pulled his other foot out then yanked up the leg of his uniform pants.

"Damn, that's going to leave a mark." Mikey whistled and bent over his leg, gently pulling at his sock. Jay tried not to wince as she pulled the damp material from his foot but she noticed anyway.

The outside of his leg, just above his right ankle, was red and blistered, the skin stretched tight and already throbbing. He breathed in through his teeth and gently rotated his foot, wincing again.

"It'll be fine."

"Yeah, right." Mikey dropped her gear next to his. "I'll go get Dave."

"Mike, no. I'll be fine, seriously."

"Let her get Dave."

Jay turned to see Pete standing next to them, eyeing his burned leg with detachment. He wanted to object, wanted to tell them both he was fine, that he would just walk it off. But the stinging throbbing wasn't going away, and he knew neither of them would buy it.

Jay let out a deep breath and shook his head, knowing he wasn't going to win this one. For an officer, Pete was pretty laid back—except on the fire ground. And his expression told Jay loud and clear that he wasn't going to talk his way out of this one, no matter how much he might want to. Jay sighed again and fixed Mike with a steady gaze, his expression serious. "Get Jimmy instead."

Mike nodded then walked away, not saying anything. He hadn't expected her to, not since he had already told her what had happened the other morning. Well, the abbreviated version, anyway.

Jay shifted, turning so he could raise his leg and stretch it out in front of him along the back step. The diamond plate was cold and rough under his skin but he didn't care. He closed his eyes, blocking out the low rumble of the diesel engine, the squelch of radios and shouts from the fire ground. The scene around him was loud, chaotic, busy—and didn't faze him in the least.

The discomfort in his ankle faded into dullness and Jay felt himself dozing off, a slight separation from the world around him. A searing pain shot through his leg and he bolted upright. His eyes shot open and he leaned forward, trying to grab his leg, only to have his hands pushed away.

"Son of a bitch!" He hissed the words through clenched teeth and glared at Dave. The man gave him a steely look then turned away, studying his ankle. He twisted his leg to get a closer look at the burn, and didn't bother being gentle about it. His gloved fingers pushed around the mottled blistering skin, moving around and outward from the burn.

Jay clenched his jaw and looked over at Mike, who was watching with an expression of apology on her face.

Dave reached behind him and grabbed some gauze and ointment from the medic box, then fixed Jay with another hard stare.

"Looks like it's at least sprained. This might hurt." Then he proceeded to slap burn ointment on his ankle with such pressure that Jay felt his stomach clench with pain and nausea.

"Fucking shit! Dammit, that's enough. It's fine!" He finally pulled his leg from Dave's grip and shot him a hard look, not surprised to see an answering glare on the man's face.

"What the hell, Dave? Really?" Mike stepped closer, ready to pull Dave away. But the man straightened and threw the roll of gauze at her, his anger obvious.

"Then you do it. Bring him to the medic when you're done." He stormed away, leaving surprised silence behind him.

"What the hell was that all about?" Pete stared at after Dave, his brows lowered in a frown. Jay glanced at Mike and shook his head, telling her not to say anything. She shot him a dirty look, letting him know that she hadn't planned on it.

"Guess he's just in a bad mood."

"You think?" Pete turned back and studied him, watching. "Well, you heard him. Can you make it over to the medic?"

"Pete, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital. Just wrap the damn thing so I can get back to work."

Pete and Mike stared at him before they both started laughing. He shot Mike a dirty look then grabbed the gauze from her hand, intending to wrap the ankle himself. Except when he bent over to do it, he realized why they had both started laughing.

In the short time since he had come outside, the blister had swollen and grown bigger, pulling against the shiny red skin surrounding it. And beneath the blister, his foot had started swelling, almost twice its normal size. There was no way in hell he was getting his boots back on, let alone getting back to work.

He shot Mike another dirty look then threw the gauze at her, ignoring her laugh as she fumbled and almost dropped it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the engine in frustration.

"Son of a bitch."