Vital Signs (13 page)

I wish I had access to that file.
He backed out of his parking spot and his tires hit the back alley. Knowing what he was up against, namely Mitchell’s connection to a murder—was as important as driving cautiously through this heavy fog.

If he’d committed such a crime as a juvenile, he might not have any remorse in killing dozens of people in house fires now.

Corey’s cell rang. Without looking he suspected it was his girl, and sure enough Sarita’s husky tones filled the car. “Corey.” His name sounded like liquid lust rolling off her tongue.

His eyelid twitched and suddenly his jeans were too tight. “Hey, angel.”

“I know we made a dinner date but I’m not sure if I’ll make it.”

He peered into the thick fog. “That’s okay because I’m not sure we could even drive to the restaurant. This fog…”

“I know. I’m in it too.”

“What? Why? Your shift’s over, isn’t it?” He didn’t like the thought of her on the streets. She walked to and from her station and sometimes took the bus if it was pouring rain. Anything could happen to her even without idiot drivers freaking out about a little cloud cover.

“Yes, but I have another call. I haven’t told you about Mr. Martinez, have I?”

He racked his brain for the name, but nothing came to him. “No.”

“It’s a man I treated a few times for breathing problems. He took a liking to me, so he always calls me.”

“If you’re off duty, he could call 911 and have an ambulance dispatched.”

“Yes, but now he’s on hospice care for terminal lung cancer.”

“I see.” If the man was terminal, there was little use in calling for an ambulance. So instead, he called Sarita because she was a sweet, giving woman who’d do anything to help a person.

“I’m going over there and make sure he’s okay. It shouldn’t take long to adjust his oxygen for him or give him a breathing treatment but he likes to talk. He’s all alone.”

As Corey was after his injury. And she’d pushed her way in despite his protests and given him exactly what he’d needed. Now he couldn’t imagine a day without her.

Damn, now his throat was clogged with emotion. Around it, his voice grated. “I understand, angel. Promise you’ll be careful.”

“Or what?” The challenge in her voice invited images of her arched brow and a teasing glint in her espresso eyes.

“Or I won’t tell you about my job taking an odd turn tomorrow.”

A beat of silence and then, “You mean the calendar shoot?”

“How the hell do you know that?” He gripped the wheel tightly. If she’d been talking to one of the guys… A growl pin-ponged in his chest. “When were you at the station?”

“I wasn’t. Jagger and Wally were dispatched to that accident and I was on the scene. We talked for a minute or two.”

Dammit. A raging need to claim her circled his system twice before he regained his sanity and cleared his throat. “Be safe out there. I’ll come to you tonight.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

The sultry hints of her tone inspired images of her nude, fresh from the bath, smelling of flowers. The damp ends of her hair trailing over her breasts and the dark tips hardened, begging for him to suck them.

They ended the call, which was a good thing. He couldn’t afford to tell her how he felt right now. Not when there was so much going on. As soon as things calmed down, he’d—

What? Confess his love?

He wasn’t even sure of what he was feeling.
Guess I’d better figure it out.

Right now all he could say for certain was he didn’t want to let her go. And he sure as hell didn’t want her with another man. She’d been there for him at his lowest, which was nothing to turn away from. At the same time he didn’t feel this was a stereotypical fall-in-love-with-your-nurse scenario. While recuperating, he’d been too focused on himself to even think about Sarita that way.

Well that wasn’t totally true either. He’d battled hourly to keep from grabbing her and kissing her breathless. But he hadn’t thought past his urges. Now all he could think about was a future with her.

From the side he caught movement and slammed on the brakes. Sure enough some idiot was out walking his dog in this pea-soup fog. Shaking his head, he waited for the guy and a golden retriever to cross before moving on. By the time he reached the other side of town and the street where Mrs. Allancamp lived, he was more on edge than he wanted to be.

He needed to keep a cool head. He wasn’t exactly trained to bring criminals to justice or even to investigate fires. His knowledge of the role was limited, and he was flying blind. But maybe that was the reason he’d come this far.

Navigating the heaved and split sidewalk was a danger even when his feet weren’t engulfed by fog. He made it to the door and knocked. No sounds came from within.

He knocked again and strained to hear. Nothing.

When he rapped on the door again, it swung inward. He held his breath, waiting for the unknown. He wasn’t even armed, but he could overpower anybody in a physical fight. His strength had fully returned and he’d never been puny.

Nobody greeted him. In fact, it seemed the door latch had just slipped and the door had swung open on its own. “Mrs. Allancamp!”

A faint noise. Metallic.

He almost bit off his tongue as he entered the home uninvited. “Mrs. Allancamp, are you here?”

His heart drummed so loudly in his ears he could barely detect the faint
clink
again.

As he rushed through the house, searching, his thoughts kept returning to Sarita. If he was hurt—or worse—because of his stubborn refusal to call in the police on this case, Sarita would give him hell. He’d pushed his luck with her a few times, but where his safety came in, she was like a dog worrying a bone. Her care made him feel warm and tingly inside—a sensation he hoped never faded.

“Are you here, Mrs. Allancamp?”

He stopped walking to listen hard. Sure enough, he caught a low tap. Following the noise to a door, he fought to hold onto his control. When he whipped it open, he expected a flight of dark stairs leading to a basement. But no, it was a dark closet of sorts, draped in cobwebs.

He gripped the flashlight clipped on his belt and shined it into the space. A dirty bare foot met his beam.

Mrs. Allancamp.

Gasping, he felt along the walls for a light switch. Finding none, he illuminated the space with his flashlight.

A furnace and some rusted pipes. Rat droppings. And Mrs. Allancamp slumped against the wall, her wrists and one ankle bound to a thick rusted pipe leading up through the floor and into the ceiling above.

The source of the noise. Her cell phone lay a few feet out of her reach. Thrown there out of frustration?

He hit his knees and wetness seeped through his jeans. He breathed shallowly as he realized it was bodily fluids. Mrs. Allancamp’s eyes were dull, dimmed by dehydration and hopelessness.

“Who did this to you?” he asked.

Her jaw worked awkwardly, oddly. Dammit, whoever had tied her up and left her here had broken her jaw. Pity flooded him.

As he worked to find anything to cut the chains and padlocks binding her, he saw childish handwriting on the wall. It reached as far as four feet—the height a small child could reach.

Crudely drawn stick figures. A large one wearing a dress, standing over a smaller one with hand upraised to strike.

Oh God. Mitchell.

Had he been kept locked inside this dungeon as a child? Abused and neglected. Higher up the wall the pictures got better as his skills had probably improved with age. And there was a disturbing set of tally marks. Eight of them.

Corey stared at them for a long minute before Mrs. Allancamp gave a long groan.

“Hold on while I get something to cut you free.” He went back into the kitchen to locate any tool to aid him. His small multi-tool he carried with him was no match for that metal. In fact, it seemed like some type of steel cable.

Something not easily purchased at a home improvement store.
It was a type of cable used on big construction sites. Was this a clue as to where Mitchell worked?

It was time to call in the authorities.

»»•««

Sarita’s knees felt more than a little weak as she stared at the hunky fireman in front of her. Corey, shirtless, his firefighter pants slung low on his hips to reveal that patch of yummy-licky muscle along his hips.

They’d sprayed water on his face and neck for the photo shoot, and droplets clung to the stubble along his jaw. A mix of dark hair and silver streaks. When he wasn’t paying attention she loved studying the age on him. He was hot as hell.

And with his firefighter’s jacket draped over his scars? Her pussy throbbed. The ends covered the still-red but healed wound on his chest while revealing enough tanned, chiseled skin to make every woman—or man—who saw the month of March wish for their very own firefighter.

But he’s all mine.

She shifted from foot to foot, restless and needy. Corey glanced up and caught her gaze. A spark lit between them—an electrical current.

“That’s it. Don’t move,” the photographer said, crouching to shoot Corey from a low angle, where he held his helmet over a certain body part. All those ridges of his abs would be on full display.

Sarita dropped him a wink and a crooked smile appeared on his lips.

“Great!” The photographer took another few shots. “You can relax now.”

“Thank fuck.” He whipped the jacket off his chest and bundled it under one arm as he stomped off-set toward Sarita.

His rolling muscles ignited her. Her panties grew damper, and her nipples hurt because they were so hard. When he caught her wrist and hauled her out of the space, she hoped for a quiet, private place where she could show him just how hot he was.

He pressed her up against a wall and captured her lower lip between his teeth. The slight sting sent her into a dizzy spiral of depraved thoughts. Who cared if they were in public? She wanted him. And judging by the hardness in his pants, he wanted her too.

Releasing her lip, he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry I never made it to your place last night. They kept me all night telling them what I know.”

He’d phoned her to say he’d discovered Mrs. Allancamp tied up in a small utility closet inside her house, battered and with several shattered bones. The authorities believed her son had done this to her.

By chance Mrs. Allancamp’s cell phone had been in her pocket, but she’d been unable to speak through her broken jaw. She’d run out of steam and her phone out of juice. If not for Corey’s perseverance she would have died there and nobody would have known for a very long time.

Sarita still wanted to throttle Corey for sticking his neck out like that. And to think she’d been just sitting with Mr. Martinez talking about his lost wife and how her own mother and sisters were faring in their poverty-stricken village while her man put himself in danger.

He trapped her firmly against the wall. She peeked around his bulky shoulder to see if anybody was watching. But it seemed the next firefighter had taken the stage and everybody was focused on him.

Sliding her hand down Corey’s hard abs to his harder cock, she let her eyelids hood. “You can make it up to me. Come home with me right now. I still have an hour before my shift starts.”

“An hour isn’t long. We’d spend ten minutes getting to your apartment. Let me take you here. In the station. I know a place.” He put space between them. Grasping her hand, he started to lead her away from the main room and the crowd gathered there for the photo shoot
.

They didn’t make it five steps before her phone gave a loud blast. An alert she’d set up when a certain person called it.

“It’s Mr. Martinez.” She stopped and Corey looked down at her, confusion on his face. “The man with the terminal lung cancer. He doesn’t often alert me at this time of day. I have to take this, Corey.”

He gave a tight nod and she brought her cell to her ear. After listening for a few seconds, she heard the breathless quality of his voice. He was straining and she could do something to ease him.

But dammit, she hadn’t seen Corey enough in the past few days either. She ended the call with the promise that she’d be right there. Then she looked up into Corey’s eyes.

“Go,” he said quietly. “It’s part of our jobs—our lives. We go where we’re needed.”

“I need you too.” She caressed his square jaw, her fingers coming away damp from the water drops lingering there.

Catching her hand, he brought it to her lips and bit the side of her finger hard enough to make her cry out. “I know you do. But we have all the time in the world. Take care of Mr. Martinez and I’ll see you after your shift.”

“What will you do today? Please tell me you aren’t on duty after being awake all night.” She wanted him in tip-top shape to fight fires.

“I’ll probably find a bunk and crash. I’ll catch up with you after your shift, okay, angel?” His gaze sent ribbons of new lust knotting her system. She really needed to find a spare moment to ease this ache deep inside her core.

Leaning in, she kissed him tenderly, letting him feel her passion. When he responded similarly, her heart gave a hard patter. She’d always known this spark between them was special. Now she was certain they were right for each other. The fact that he understood her drive to help people was huge.

But she could skip her next shift. She always took extras and when people called off, she was the person they called for backup. What if she simply didn’t work today? She could take Corey back to her place and pamper him. Tuck him in bed for hours before finally letting him get some rest.

No, I need the money.
Her sisters and mother were counting on her. The faster she earned and saved, the better their lives would be.

She broke the kiss. Corey gave her a parting wink. She grinned and left the station, heading in the direction of Mr. Martinez’s house.

The man reminded her of her
papa
as much as he said she reminded him of his dear late wife. He said his wife had possessed the same fire in her eyes. Of course, she took the ramblings in stride and agreed with him.