Playing With Fire (16 page)

"I don't care about the cost."

"If the blockage isn't too large, he may pass it on his own."

"And if it is too large?” Lindsay hated asking, but she had to know.

"Then he won't pass it."

Travis didn't expound. He didn't need to. She understood the probable outcome in that case.

Death.

She swallowed a sob. There had to be another solution. “What else can we do?"

"I can attempt to remove the blockage surgically."

"What are his chances?"

"Better than without surgery. He's young and healthy. And we discovered the problem early. But there's always a risk of complications,” he cautioned.

"Do it"

He nodded. “You're making the right decision."

"I hope so.” She bit her bottom lip. This was her fault. Why hadn't she moved the box of gloves to a shelf when she'd first found Booter with one?

"I'll try my best to save him.” Travis gave her a reassuring smile.

"Thank you.” She swiped at her damp cheeks. “Can I wait outside in the reception area?"

"Why don't you go back to the station? Two hours is a long time. I'll call you the minute I know something."

She shook her head stubbornly. “I want to wait here."

"All right.” He squeezed her shoulder before leaving.

Lindsay didn't wait long. Less than twenty minutes later, her radio went off. Leaving word with Travis’ receptionist, she hightailed it to the station. No matter what, work came first. She had to respond.

Lindsay chewed on a thumbnail, counting the seconds it took for Dennis to pull the engine into the station and park it.

Too many
. What was the hold up?

The call, their second since Lindsay left Booter at Travis’ clinic, had taken longer than usual because of extreme circumstances. Lindsay remained focused while necessary, but on the ride back to the station, she'd thought only of Booter and any impending word on his condition.

She couldn't escape the confining cab fast enough. The blaring radio grated on her nerves like chalk on a blackboard. When the engine at last came to a complete stop, she flung the door open, leapt from the rear seat, and ran to the kitchen.

There, she checked the voice mails on both her cell phone and the station phone. No message from Travis.

"Damn,” Lindsay muttered under her breath.

She should have heard by now. He'd called earlier to tell her the contrast films he'd taken showed a sizeable mass at the top of Booter's small intestines. As they'd agreed, Travis proceeded with the surgery. That was at two thirty. The clock over the desk read ten after five.

Did no news mean good news, or had one of the complications he'd warned her about materialized?

Replacing the receiver, Lindsay pressed a hand to her stomach. Guilt, worry, and frustration battled for dominance. A dozen ‘if only’ scenarios skipped through her mind. At an unexpected tap on her shoulder, she jumped her hand flying to her throat.

Upon seeing Matt, she relaxed. “I'm a little on edge."

"Understandable.” He gazed at her expectantly. “Did the vet call?"

Shaking her head, she expelled a long sigh.

He smiled encouragingly. “That dog has a cast iron stomach. You've seen some of the junk he's eaten."

"Nothing like this."

"He'll be all right."

"You don't know that,” she snapped.

"No, I don't. But I want him to be all right. For your sake as much as his. Part of being with someone is being there for them. Saying what you think they want to hear."

"I'm sorry.” Lindsay instantly regretted losing her temper. Matt had done nothing except offer his support. “You didn't deserve that."

"Hey. What are friends for?” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Lindsay remembered he'd done the same thing that day at the dunking tank. In a moment of sudden clarity, she realized the depths of his feelings for her. His simple show of support held more meaning, carried more weight than any lavish display of love and affection.

A hundred words were on the tip of her tongue. She uttered only two. “Thank you."

"Go on.” He jerked his head toward the living quarters. “Take a shower. You're a mess."

That brought a smile to her lips, albeit a weak one. She
was
a mess. They all were. In a freak accident, an older model van caught fire in the middle of downtown traffic. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. But there had been an incredible amount of thick, black smoke which left behind an oily residue on their clothes, skin, and hair.

"You sure know how to flatter a girl.” The wall phone near Lindsay rang. She dived for it. “Hello!"

"Lindsay? It's Travis."

"How's Booter?” she asked without preamble and instinctively reached for Matt. His hand locked with hers.

"He's fine. Came through surgery with flying colors."

"Thank God.” She paused to collect herself. “When can I see him?"

"He's still groggy, of course, and will be for quite a while. I want to keep him here for at least two days. Maybe three. Why don't you come by in the morning? He'll be alert by then and ready for visitors."

"I'm off duty at eight a.m. Is that too early?"

"No, that'll be fine. We don't open until nine on Saturdays, so come to the side door and ring the bell."

"Will do."

"If you'd like,” Travis continued, “I can call you before I head home this evening and give you a status report."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Sleep easy tonight, Lindsay. The worst is over."

"I can't thank you enough."

"It's me who should thank you."

"Why?"

"For giving me a chance to impress Mahina.” He laughed good-naturedly. “Talk me up a bit, will you? Convince her I performed a miracle."

"It
was
a miracle."

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his tone had sobered. “Some days are better than others."

How well Lindsay knew that. “I'll say."

"Goodbye, Lindsay"

"Goodbye.” She hung up the phone and without conscious thought, spun around and flung herself into Matt's arms. “Booter's going to make it."

He enveloped her in a warm hug. “I told you so."

She hid her face, somewhat chagrined at the tears pricking her eyes. Horrible events were a daily occurrence on the job, and she considered herself made of stronger stuff.

"I'm being silly,” she said, extricating herself from Matt's embrace and dabbing at her sniffly nose. “He's just a dog."

"You care about him. Nothing silly in that."

Matt's fingers curled around the column of her neck, and his thumb stroked her cheek. Lindsay closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the soothing emotions his touch evoked. He drew her to him and lowered his head until their temples brushed. She started to say something.

He quieted her with a soft, “Shh."

"Don't let me interrupt you two lovebirds,” Dennis said from the doorway.

Lindsay froze.

Matt cursed softly and let his arm drop to his side. Keeping his expression neutral, he stepped back from her and pivoted to face Dennis. “You're not interrupting anything. Lindsay's just worried about the dog."

"Looks to me like I was.” Dennis strutted into the room. “Kinda like that night in the storage room. Only this time, you can't lie your way out of it.” His mouth curved into a mean smile, and he clasped the sides of his face in a pantomime of distress. “Oh, dear. My poor sensibilities are offended. I'll have to report this indiscretion to the captain. I wonder what he'll say?"

Matt must have nerves of steel.
He acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. She, on the other hand, was a wreck. And with good reason.

What they'd done was completely and unquestionably against regulations. No intimate contact of any kind outside of what was necessary in the line of duty. Matt could try and dismiss it, and someone other than Dennis might understand and overlook it, but that didn't change the fact she and Matt had committed a serious violation.

"Don't,” Matt warned, pushing past Lindsay. “Don't make this into more than it is."

Dennis snorted a crude laugh. “A little too late for that."

Lindsay sensed impending disaster and trying to head if off, raised her hands in supplication. “Hey, you guys. Take it easy, okay?"

"Butt out, Pfeiffer.” Dennis took his eyes off Matt only long enough to glare menacingly at her.

Matt ignored her completely and addressed Dennis. “What are you going to tell him? That you walked in on us during an innocent hug?"

"Innocent hug, my ass.” Dennis shifted tactics, shrugging his beefy shoulders. “Hey, it's none of my business what goes on between you two. But Fire Administration? I'm thinking they'll be very interested to learn she's putting out for a coworker during work hours. Course, I might be willing to overlook what I just saw.” He openly leered at Lindsay. “If Pfeiffer here is willing to share the goods."

Matt covered the distance between him and Dennis in the span of a single heartbeat. Dennis clearly didn't expect that kind of reaction from Matt. His eyes bulged with alarm when Matt, taller, but many pounds lighter, grabbed him by the shirt front and shoved him into the wall with a hard thrust.

"Geeze, man,” Dennis hollered. “Are you nuts?"

"Don't you ever insult her like that again. Do you hear me?” Matt spoke through clenched teeth, his dark, angry face inches from Dennis'.

"Screw you, Callahan.” Dennis shoved Matt, but his efforts to budge the man towering over him failed.

Lindsay frantically glanced around the kitchen for something, anything, to stop them. A fistfight was grounds for immediate dismissal, regardless of who started it. Matt and Dennis would both lose their jobs, and she couldn't let that happen. The situation had blown way out of proportion.

But how to stop them? Placing herself in the middle wasn't an option for obvious reasons. All at once, an image of her holding the garden hose and spraying Matt flashed in her mind. It gave her an idea. Lunging toward the sink, she flipped on the faucet, grabbed the water sprayer, and took aim. Water shot out, showering the two men with a cold, wet spray.

It worked. They fell apart in a frenzy of flailing arms and oaths.

Wiping his face with his hands, Dennis turned from Matt to Lindsay. “You bitch,” he shouted.

"Leave her alone.” Matt leaned on the refrigerator door, his chest heaving. “She just saved our jobs."

Had she? Lindsay hoped so.

"You're not getting away with this.” Dennis jabbed the air with his fist. “Either of you."

"What in blue thunder is going on here?” Emilio appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. Fresh from the shower, his damp hair stuck out in several places, and he looked ready to kill somebody. “I heard you all the way in the bathroom."

"Matt started it. He—"

"Save it for later.” Emilio cut Dennis off, then surveyed the room. With a disgusted shake of his head, he said, “Clean up this mess. All of you.” He turned to leave. “Callahan, I'll see you in my office in fifteen minutes after that Bigelow and then Pfeiffer."

Following protocol, Emilio called a meeting with all three crew members an hour after their private interviews. “I've heard from each of you individually,” he began. “What say we see how the story changes when you're together?” He nodded at Lindsay. “You first."

She gave her version of what happened, the same as she had when she and Emilio met earlier.

"Dr. Montgomery called from the animal hospital with the news that Booter came through the surgery fine. I was so relieved when I hung up the phone, I hugged Matt. That was it. No big deal."

"You are aware that any physical contact between two firefighters not necessary to the performance of your job is strictly prohibited?"

"Of course I am."

"Yet you hugged."

It had been difficult enough for Lindsay when she'd met with just Emilio. Having to repeat the story in front of Matt and Dennis was excruciating. “I ... I didn't think."

"Did he try to kiss you?"

"No.” She shook her head emphatically.

"Bullshit,” Dennis interjected.

"Quiet.” Emilio scowled at him. “You'll have your turn."

Dennis grumbled, but did as he was told.

"Go on.” Emilio motioned for Lindsay to continue.

"Dennis walked in on us and jumped to the wrong conclusion. He ... made a comment. Directed at me."

"Describe the comment."

Lindsay gnawed on her bottom lip, debating. “He implied that I'm involved ... sexually, that is, with Matt. The term he used was far from flattering."

"I see. What did you do?"

"Nothing.” The admission shamed her.

"What did Matt do?"

She gnawed on her bottom lip again. To answer truthfully put Matt in a bad light. Yet what choice did she have?

"Lindsay?” Emilio prompted.

"Matt charged Dennis. But he was only trying to defend me,” she added hastily.

"Did Dennis threaten you?"

"Oh, no!"

"Then why was Matt defending you?"

"Not from any physical threat.” Lindsay swallowed. Everything was going terribly wrong, and she didn't know how to fix it. “More like defending my honor."

Dennis made a rude sound.

Matt stared out the window.

"All right.” Emilio's gaze landed on Dennis. “What have you to add?"

"In a nutshell, I came into the kitchen and found them in, shall we say, a compromising situation."

"Were they touching?"

"Close enough to swap spit."

Emilio considered a moment. “Did you say something to them?"

"Of course I said something."

"Would you define your comment as unflattering?"

For the first time during the interview, Dennis lost some of his cockiness. “She deserved it."

"I didn't ask you if she deserved it."

Dennis fidgeted in his seat. “I wouldn't call it a compliment."

Emilio jotted a note on a pad of paper. He'd already filled numerous pages. Then he turned to Matt. “Your turn."

Matt didn't immediately respond and continued staring at the window.

Lindsay's sweat-dampened shirt stuck to her and itched like mad.