Ride the Fire (14 page)

“You know it.” She stood. “You’re tired. We’d better let the others have their turn before you pass out.”

“See you tomorrow, Sean.”

He lifted a hand and tried to smile, but she saw the smudges under his eyes. The exhaustion. She wanted to stay, take him in her arms, and feel his heart beating against hers. Give him a lingering kiss, reassure herself that he was real. Alive. Not being able to do either of those things was almost physically painful. She thought she saw regret in his expression, too, and somehow that made her feel better.

She waved back and followed Zack out before she was tempted to make a scene the guys would be talking about for years.

The way things were going, that day might come sooner than she thought.

When they each had their own equipment at their feet, Six-Pack continued. “Check over every crevice of your Air-Pak, hose, and mask. Every piece. Leave nothing unaccounted for.” He paused while they took a few minutes to do as instructed. “Any problems?”

One by one, they all replied in the negative. Nothing wrong with any of the tanks and masks they’d been wearing.

“Okay, on to the spares. These were on the quint, side compartment, which was unlocked for easy access given the situation we were dealing with.” He pointed to one that sat slightly apart from the others. “That’s the one Sean grabbed from the quint and wore inside. He said it ran out of air, but he should’ve had the full thirty minutes. I damned well want to know why he didn’t. Everybody grab one and do a check.”

They got busy. Eve had just started on the one she’d picked when Clay spoke up.

“Uh, Lieutenant . . . the hose on this one has been cut.”

Everyone froze, stared at him.

“What the hell did you say?” Howard strode over and squatted, peering at the part in question. His brows drew together and his mouth flattened. “It’s been sliced, vertically, right between the grooves. Cut almost in two.”

“This one, also,” Zack said, voice rising.

“And this one.” Julian slammed his tank on the ground, all sorts of pissed. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Mine, too,” Eve put in, staring at the cut in the hose.

“They all checked out fine this morning, I swear!” Clay cried, glancing around the group. “I know for a fact they were good.”

The lieutenant checked Sean’s unit last, just to confirm their suspicions. “This one is cut, too. All the extras on the quint were tampered with,” he said, seething with a white-hot rage Eve had never seen. “Which means someone had to have done it while we were all busy and the scene was in chaos. A knife or a pair of cutters, and he only needed seconds to do the job. I’d like to get my hands around his neck.”

His sentiments were echoed with enthusiasm.

“What do we do now?” Eve’s question had them all looking to Six-Pack for guidance.

“I’ll call the chief. He’ll know what to do, who else to notify.” Howard’s father, Fire Chief Bentley Mitchell, was a legend in Sugarland. He was supposed to retire at the end of July, but had postponed the event, much to everyone’s relief. “I have to say, though, I’m flying blind on this. Who the fuck would tamper with a firefighter’s equipment, knowing he could get someone hurt? This is so out of the blue, so vicious. I don’t get it.”

That statement hit Eve like a fist. Until this second, she hadn’t even considered the events could be connected. Sean might get upset, but the guys had a right to know, under the circumstances.

“Maybe not so out of the blue.”

Six-Pack pinned her with his angry gaze. “Explain.”

She swallowed. “The day Sean returned to work after rehab, he got a nasty phone call. Came in on his cell phone, in his office. The caller asked whether he’d ever thought maybe ‘it wasn’t an accident,’ and when he figured out it might mean the wreck that killed his family, I thought he was going to pass out.”

The others stood there, watching and silent. Howard appeared more livid every second. She hoped he didn’t stroke out.

“Has he received any more calls?”

“No, but he got an equally nasty package at home. Inside was a big bottle of whiskey and a snapshot of the actual wreck as it was burning. Thank God I got there in time to help. . . .” She trailed off, realizing she’d just revealed more about their relationship than she’d intended to do in front of Julian and Clay. From the looks thrown her way, she’d get grilled later. For now, they let it go.

“Did he notify the police?”

“Yes. Tommy called Shane, who sent out a detective. After talking with Sean, he decided to take these things collectively as a threat. He took the package and its contents, and he’s going to try and trace the origin of the phone call. It’s a place to start. I’d hoped the guy, or whoever, would just go away, but now I have to wonder if he’s behind the tampering.”

“Christ Almighty.” The lieutenant scrubbed a hand through his spiky brown hair and blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll call Dad and this detective—what’s his name?”

“Taylor Kayne.”

“Kayne. Right.” He headed for the door leading inside the station from the bay. “Leave all this stuff out and don’t touch it anymore.”

A strained silence followed his departure.

Julian spoke up first. “I find out who’s doing this to Sean? I’ll kill him with my bare hands, first chance I get.”

“You’ll have to stand in line,” Zack told him.

So why did he feel so guilty?

The door opened quietly and a figure stalked to his bed. Like a panther singling out his prey. The man’s face remained in shadow, hidden just there. He felt the weight of the man’s stare, of accusation, before he even spoke.

“I trusted you,” the man whispered. “Traitor.”

Sean’s heart pounded in terror. “Do I know you?”

“As well as you know yourself.” His nemesis gave a bitter laugh. “That’s how you destroyed me, after all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t you? Don’t you recognize the Reaper when he comes to call?”

“Get away from me!”

Another laugh, sinister, as the man opened his shirt to reveal the scar over his heart. “Blew me away, just like I’ll return the favor. Told you I’d make you pay, Sergeant Sean Tanner.”

“No! Get away from me!” Sean bolted upright in bed, gasping. He clutched the bedcovers, and blinked, trying to get his bearings in the dimly lit room.

Hospital. He was alone.

Nightmare. There was no one here with him.

Just a nightmare.

Then he wasn’t alone anymore as a nurse hurried inside. “Mr. Tanner? I heard you shouting,” she said, reaching out to grab his wrist and take his pulse. “Way too fast. Are you all right?”

“Had a nightmare,” he said. As the terror abated, he started to feel stupid. “It was nothing, really.”

“Must’ve been a doozy. How about I give you something to help you sleep?”

The whole bottle ought to do it.

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine now.”

She didn’t look convinced, but left him alone once more after extracting a promise to buzz her if he changed his mind.

He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to close his eyes and dream of shattered friendships and betrayals. About vows of vengeance.

He didn’t want to close his eyes and imagine he’d seen Jesse Rose anywhere. Not in his worst nightmares.

And not in reality, ever again.

“Shot at and missed, shit at and hit,” he croaked.

“I’ll bet. Quite the day you’ve had. Quite the week, in fact.”

Uh-oh. “Meaning?”

“Come on, son. Don’t yank my pecker. I know all about the phone call and the so-called gift you got in the mail. When were you planning to say something?”

“Who told you? Eve?” He stared at Bentley Mitchell, incredulous. “She had no right.”

“Wait a damned minute before you get pissed. She only told your team and me because of the air tanks being sabotaged. Or, rather, the hoses.”

“What?” The full import hit, and he sat up, fumbling to push the button and raise the bed some. “The hoses were tampered with?”

“Yep. Some sumbitch cut all the spares while everyone was busy. You got hold of one, and damned near got killed as a result.”

His mind reeled. “And Eve thinks this is the next step of his campaign? That he wrecked the tanks on the off chance of hurting me? The bastard couldn’t have known I’d go inside the restaurant, so that doesn’t work as a theory.”

“True, but he knew
someone
might need a new tank. I think his goal was to hurt you indirectly, through your team, and that you were an unexpected bonus.”

Terrific. “I don’t know if the detective will agree—”

“He does. He said he’d catch up with you later, though.”

A horrible thought occurred to him. “The explosion at the restaurant . . . Bentley, you don’t think . . .”

“It was deliberate? We’ll know soon enough.” The man shifted, his serious demeanor telling Sean that he was about to get to the main reason for his visit. “Sean, we’ve known each other for, what? Eighteen years?”

“Almost. At least as long as I’ve known Howard.”

He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “And in all those years, I’ve never known you to be impulsive. You’ve always thought out every move, taken command like a born leader. Part of that military background, I suppose.”

“I guess.” Christ, he felt like a kid in the principal’s office. He knew where this was going.

“So what in the goddamned hell possessed you to leave your post and put yourself in danger when you have a team waiting for your direction?” He waved a hand, agitated. “No, don’t answer that. I know the reason was the boy, and we could get all into the psychological implications of that shit if we had a few weeks or months to discuss it. Let me rephrase—allowing your team to see you slightly unhinged and going off half-cocked is unprofessional. Worse, it’s dangerous.”

Lead sat in his gut. “I’m sorry. But all I could think of was the kid, trapped in there. Believe me, it would’ve been more dangerous had I sent someone else and the rescue had failed. Because
I
would’ve failed by not acting.”

Bentley sighed, suddenly looking every inch the back side of sixty. “That’s a mindfuck, son. You can’t put that sort of pressure on yourself and hope to make retirement.”

Sean rubbed the grit out of his eyes and then looked at his mentor. His friend. “Are you here to tell me I’m done? Is that what this is about?”

“Hell no. Do you
want
to be done?” Sharp eyes pierced his.

“No, I don’t. I love my job and I can’t imagine not having the station, the guys. They’re my home,” he said truthfully.

“You could quit tomorrow, play with your money and live it up.”

“I’d be dead within the year.” That was no exaggeration.

“Now you know why I put off retiring,” the older man said, lips quirking. “Though in my case, that feeling isn’t so dire anymore. Which brings me to my point.”

“You
are
done,” he said softly.

“Yeah. End of the year.”

“Damn.” He swallowed the lump in his throat that had nothing to do with soreness from the smoke.

“Time to pack my bags and go play in the sand with Georgie. That Alaskan cruise Howard sent us on in July only whetted her appetite for me to be a free man.” He sounded excited, yet his smile was wistful. “It’ll be good to do all the stuff we’ve always wanted, go to the places we haven’t seen. Anyway, as you could guess, I’ve been asked who might make great candidates to fill the vacant positions created by my leaving.”

Sean sat up, a strange thrill going through him. He couldn’t allow himself to hope this visit meant what he thought. “A domino effect of promotions all the way to the top. I hadn’t given a ton of thought about how it would affect anyone but the man replacing you.” Which would probably be Assistant Chief Lawrence Patrick, though Bentley would never say until the official announcement.

“Exactly. A list of names is already under consideration for the vacancies, and several captains in particular are being looked at to fill one battalion chief’s position.”

The statement hovered between them, and Sean sucked in a harsh breath. He couldn’t believe what Bentley was telling him in so many words. Never dreamed his name would make it onto the list, even with Bentley’s support.

“Every hope and doubt in your brain is etched on your face.” The older man leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “Let me tell you something. You want your name to stay on that list? Shit like yesterday cannot happen again. You saved the kid, and that saved you in regard to the promotion. A mistake can be overlooked when there’s a child involved, one who’s alive because of your actions. I spun the story a tad so my successor won’t think you went off your rocker.
This
time. The rest is up to you.”

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it.

“Don’t thank me. Just get your goddamned act together once and for all, because in nine weeks, I’m gone. I won’t be able to cover your ass anymore, son.”

“I
am
getting it together, I swear. I’ll never be perfect, but I’m coming out the other side and I know I’m going to make it.”

“That’s all I want for you, to be settled and find some peace.”

He stared at the man who was his friend, and as close to a father as he’d known since his dad passed away. He cleared his throat. “That day, when I hit rock bottom and Tommy was hurt . . . you saved my life. Forced me to get help. You and Howard. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay—”

A big hand shot out, gripped his shoulder. “By moving on, being happy. By forgiving yourself for a tragic outcome you couldn’t change.”

Barely able to speak, he clasped the older man’s arm. “I’m doing my best.”

After the chief was gone, he spent more than an hour staring at the wall, waiting to be released. And contemplating everything the man had said.

Sean had never been great at handling change, and it seemed everything that touched his life was doing just that, at an alarming rate.

Everyone was growing, changing, moving on.

He just hoped he had the courage to do the same.

Right after he tapped that elusive well of self-forgiveness.