The Protector (6 page)

He did and smiled with pleasure. It was accurate down to the grillwork. “Now
these
are collectibles.”

“I think so.”

She liked old cars. It was a small thing, but he hadn’t known it.

“Have you eaten yet?” Cassie asked.

Jack looked up from the car he held. Cassie pushed away from the counter and disappeared through the side door to the storage room. She came back with plates and napkins. “Say you haven’t even if you have. I hate to eat alone.”

“Cassie, I never turn down barbecue spareribs.”

She moved books from the table to a blue plastic tote, clearing a space for them. “Just stack the pink pages and drop them back into the in-basket on the desk. They’re on-line customer wish lists. I’ll get back to them later.”

“Business is good?”

“It’s in the black. At the prices these books command, I only need to sell a few a month to cover the overhead.”

When he’d visited her at the hospital he often found her on-line doing deals or researching the value of books she had found, using the hobby as a distraction against the ever present pain. She hadn’t been much for TV beyond CNN and old Westerns.

Dealing with the burns, the surgeries, the painful recovery—day after day she had kept moving forward. He’d sat on the weight bench opposite her in the hospital rehab and told her jokes as she struggled to lift a three-pound barbell through twenty-rep exercises. He learned a lot about her ability never to quit. This business was yet another way to move forward. He was proud of her.

The papers moved to safety, Jack started unloading the sack.

She looked tired. As Cassie quietly fixed her plate with a sample of the items Sandra had sent, he could see now what Cole had referred to. There were lines around her eyes and the good mood and lightness in her voice couldn’t hide the fact she was relieved to sit down.

He waited while she silently prayed. He knew she was a Christian. It hadn’t taken more than a couple visits to the hospital to see her faith was more than words with her. Her Bible on the bedside table, a few of the books she read were on prayer, and the radio had been tuned to a Christian station. Cole believed too, and Jack had at times interrupted some very serious conversations between the two of them.

He found the subject of religion a difficult one. In the last few months four in his family had chosen to believe, and it was no longer a subject he could avoid. Jack didn’t understand it. Jesus seemed to be the serious myth that people believed in at Christmas, Santa Claus the childish one. It was the season for children to think someone really did come down the chimney with gifts and for the adults to set aside reason and believe there was a God who had become a man.

Cassie lifted her head, ending her silent prayer, and reached for a napkin.

“You’re looking forward to Christmas.”

Cassie flashed him a grin as she nudged the box of Christmas decorations on the floor with her foot. “How could you tell?”

He had always loved the color and excitement of the Christmas season, the stocking stuffers, and the excuse to give gifts. It was harder this year with Jennifer sick, harder to retain the smile when there was a chance this would be her last Christmas.

Cassie’s gaze sharpened as she must’ve caught something in his expression. He didn’t want to talk about his sister’s cancer, didn’t have words to keep the emotions he felt in perspective. He spoke before she could. “You need a Christmas tree.”

She looked at him a moment, then nodded, accepting the redirect. “I’m going to put a big one in the window and decorate it to the point it wants to topple under all the lights and ornaments. I’ve got a set of handmade glitter ones that are messy but look beautiful.”

Jack seized on that comment. There weren’t many obvious ways to put himself back into her world and he would take any opening he could find. She would need help with the Christmas tree.

“Has anyone heard from Ash?”

He wished he could give her a positive answer. He wanted to shake the guy for worrying her this way. Jack knew how close partners got. He had watched Ash and Cassie tease each other mercilessly during speed drills and hose hauls, but let someone else suggest their team wasn’t the best and the two of them would turn as one to reply. He envied them both. “No one has heard from him.”

Cassie pushed aside her disquiet and picked up the first sparerib on her plate. “Knowing Ash, he’ll be back when he’s ready and when I least expect it.”

Jack didn’t think Cassie and Ash had been more than good friends, but he knew they were very close. When your life depended on the person at your side, the trust went deep. And it went both ways between Ash and Cassie. Jack didn’t understand why Ash had left without a word.

Cassie closed her eyes as she tasted the first sparerib. “Oh, these are good.”

Jack turned his attention to his. “It’s the sauce.”

“And the smoke and the time and Charles’s magic touch.” She finished the first one and licked sauce off her fingers.

Jack reached over and wiped a spot from her chin. “Messy.”

She laughed. “You can try and clean me up later. Somehow I don’t think I’ll have to worry about leftovers.”

“You didn’t have dinner.”

She glanced at the box on her desk. “Pumpkin pie.”

“Good priorities.”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll stop asking questions so you can eat dinner now.”

The laughter reached her eyes as she picked up another sparerib. “Appr’ciate it.”

Jack relaxed. Cassie hadn’t changed, not all that much. Her eyes still reflected her thoughts; her emotions still came easily to the surface. “I miss having you at the fire scenes.”

She studied him over her dinner. “I miss being there.”

The first time he met her he’d been working with Company 81, Cassie for Company 65.

He was facing a grease fire in a restaurant, all his guys committed, with fire leaping to the business next door. Company 65 arrived and he yelled at her as he did any other guy, tagging her number from the back of her helmet, no idea who she was, sending her and Ash into the smoke next door to confirm the building was clear.

When she dumped water over his head to cool him down before cleanup started, he’d taken a mouthful of it as he realized C. Ellis was a woman. She’d laughed so hard at his expression she started to hiccup, then went back to hauling out smoldering bench padding to the street. Jack shook his head like a wet dog and followed her back to work.

“I can image the mop-ups are a bit more boring now,” she teased.

“No one to talk literature with,” he agreed, smiling.

Cassie put everything she had physically and then some into whatever job she was doing. His biggest caution had always been that she save some of that energy for the end of the fire.

He’d heard that when she returned to her fire station she’d crawl away, crash with a book, and ignore the world to get her energy back. He enjoyed teasing her about that at a scene while they were doing cleanup.

She’d always been one to laugh at his jokes and his gag gifts. She was quieter now, more reflective, and the experience she lived through was there just below the surface. But she was coming back with the same steel that had driven her to excel at her job. He was grateful. She’d had her life upended, but she found the strength to deal with it.

He wasn’t sure how he’d handle it if he were put in a similar situation. He wanted to be a firefighter ever since he’d seen the fire in his bedroom as a young boy. His parents had encouraged the dream with trips to the local fire department and to the firefighter museum. The car crash that had killed his parents— It had been the fire department first on the scene to try and save them and Jack had never forgotten that. He’d gotten into the fire academy as soon as he could qualify. Being a fireman wasn’t a job as much as it was an identity.

“Do you have plans yet for Christmas?” Cassie asked.

“Working. We’ll probably have the O’Malley gathering the weekend before.”

“I’ve heard about those O’Malley bashes.”

They were legendary for the fun, family, and food. “If it’s one thing the O’Malleys know how to do well, it’s have fun.”

“I envy you the big family.”

He’d love to talk her into coming with him. He looked at her, started to ask, then bit his tongue. If Cassie said no to the invitation, he wanted enough time to convince her to change her mind, and the clock above the door was taking away his options for having such a discussion. It was 8:10. Jack didn’t want to leave but knew he’d have to if he was going to get to the fire station on time.

Cassie saw the direction of his glance and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “You’re working tonight?”

“I told Greg I’d cover part of his shift so he could get away early in the morning. His family is having a weekend reunion.”

“Nice of you.”

“I wish now I hadn’t said yes.”

She chuckled and pushed the frosted pastry his way. “Take dessert with you.”

“Can I come back sometime?”

She leaned back in her chair and left his question hanging a beat too long for his comfort. When she answered, her smile reached her eyes. “Come over and I’ll put you to work. Next time I’ll bring the food.”

Of all the reasons he liked Cassie, that undertone of laughter in her voice was near the top of the list. He pulled on his jacket and dug out his keys, then picked up the pastry and took a bite. There was raspberry inside. “Deal.”

She was a vision walking in the door of the Smokehouse Eatery. Cole nearly choked on his soda. Where had Rachel gotten a cashmere sweater to match her eyes? Her black jacket hung open, her hands pushed into the pockets. She was wearing jeans and a sweater the color of emeralds.

Rachel was the classic beauty in the O’Malley family with an innate sense of how to dress well to make an impression. She was making one. Tall, slender, she walked like a model with her graceful stride. Cole was aware of men shifting their gaze as she crossed their line of sight. Rachel skirted around people coming his direction where he sat on a stool at the counter. He straightened, hoping…

“Cole, have you seen Gage?”

The vision spoke and he scowled. “Gage wouldn’t risk coming here. He might cross paths with your brother.”

She winced. “They have got to call a truce.”

“Not up to you.”

She shot him an annoyed look and turned to scan the room, her shoulder length brown hair swinging across her jacket collar. “Where is Jack? I thought he was coming to this gathering.”

“He left an hour ago. I could make an educated guess where he went.”

Rachel smiled. “So could I.”

She picked up a matchbook from the basket beside the cash register out of habit and slid it into her pocket. He knew it had nothing to do with the fact she smoked—because she didn’t—and everything to do with the fact she often worked disaster situations where the electricity was out. She gave new meaning to the adage: Be prepared.

“Sit. Stay a minute. You just walked in.” She looked like she was getting ready to head out again.

“I’m looking for Gage.”

“He won’t be any more lost in five minutes than he is now.”

She hesitated, then slid onto the stool next to him. She had a politeness that wouldn’t let her refuse the request. She slipped off her jacket. He told himself not to stare. She was beautiful and it was a pleasure to look at her. Her sweater had three-quarter length sleeves, and it set off the fact she still had a tan acquired from her recent work in Texas and Florida. A silver bracelet holding an emerald stone bracketed her left wrist.

Cole turned on his stool and caught the attention of the lady on the other side of the counter. “Sandra, do you have any more of that hot apple cider? Rachel could use some.”

“I’m not that cold,” Rachel muttered, pushing the hands she had been rubbing into the pockets of her snug jeans.

“Honey, your nose is red, not to mention your ears.”

Now her face was red. He watched that blush and was surprised when she didn’t say anything as a comeback. He’d always been able to count on her for one. As a silent apology he slid over the basket of deep-fried mushrooms he’d been working on. “Eat. And tell me about Jennifer.”

Her straight posture wilted on the stool. She picked up one of the mushrooms and bit into it, her gaze turning inward as she became absorbed in her own thoughts. “Cole, it’s going to be a miserable Christmas.”

He rested his forearms against the counter and crowded her space and she didn’t even notice. “Why?”

Four

I
wondered how far you would walk before you came back here. You should have paged.” Caught off guard, Rachel looked up. Gage was sitting on the front stoop of his town house, his gray sedan parked behind her car at the curb rather than in his drive. It was after nine o’clock and Rachel had given up any hope of locating him, having checked all his normal haunts.

“I tried. Your pager batteries must be dead.”

He pulled the pager from his belt clip to check. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Rachel sat beside him on the steps, relief releasing the tension that had built up as she walked back from the restaurant.