Burned Read online

  Standing in the driveway of the station, he was surrounded by daytime traffic streaming along the road, providing a constant backdrop of noise and the occasional smell of exhaust or diesel.

  He dipped his big sponge in the bucket of soapy water by his feet and swiped it along the side of the red engine he’d parked outside the bay earlier.

  Early summer had launched with an unholy vengeance. The weather vacillated between too hot for this area and days shrouded in mist and fog.

  Today, the sun beat down on his back, through the short-sleeved blue uniform shirt, and heated the skin on his arms and neck. Normally, he would have welcomed the warmth radiating on his body, but at the moment, he was lost in thought.

  I’m a liability to any relationship. It’s not like I had positive adult role-models growing up. And, if I ever felt the need to seek advice on how to do better, who can I talk to? Griffin’s a good friend, but it’s not like we sort out relationship shit together. There’s no auntie or grandma or mother in the mix.

  He ground his teeth together and dropped the sponge into the bucket. It landed with a splash, sending droplets of soapy water across his blue pants.

  A female voice called out to him. “Hey, Hollerback.”

  He turned his head.

  Cassandra strode toward him through the big bay door. Her generous curls bobbed about her head. Usually, she kept her hair pinned back. Today, it flowed freely, alluding to her untamed inner spirit.

  “Hey, Whack,” he said.

  She stabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “I just finished my rig check. Want some help?”

  “Sure,” he said. “You take the hose.” He pointed to the coiled tubing laying by his feet. “I’ll soap.”

  She nodded, stooping to pick up the green hose. Her hand squeezed the spray nozzle, and she began rinsing off the areas he’d finished.

  For a second, Jackson thought about asking her for some “sisterly” advice.

  The fire department had few women, but those who made it in the ranks generally tended to have worked their butts off to get there. They had to constantly compete with a bunch of men for acceptance and recognition until they proved themselves. He respected their dedication, especially Cassandra’s. He’d seen her come toe to toe with captains and chiefs with an undaunting spirit.

  But it wasn’t like he and Whack were close. So, he decided to broach a general topic and see how the conversation flowed.

  He reached down to retrieve the sponge, squeezing out the excess water. “How’s life?”

  That’s safe enough. A generic question.

  Cassandra blinked and looked up. “Life’s okay. How about with you?”

  “Good, it’s good.” He made a few wide swipes across the rig and then focused on a particularly grimy area near the bumper. Several seconds passed with Jackson feeling about as socially adept as when he was a teenager.

  “I started dating this new guy,” Cassandra said.

  He brightened. “Did you? How’s it going?”

  She snorted. “Like a car engine that purrs on some days and stalls and cuts out on others.”

  “Doesn’t sound too promising,” he said, reaching down to rinse his sponge.

  “I’d like it to be promising.” Something like wistfulness crossed her face. “It’s hard to find a good man in Singer Springs, let alone a black man. Singer Springs is pretty white.”

  “Yeah, I think about how white the population is, too. There’s not a lot of diversity in these parts.” He gripped the sponge in two hands and squeezed, sending a trail of water splashing into the bucket.

  “No, kidding. I’d rather be working in Seattle. That’s where my family lives. But this job came up, and firefighting careers are hard to come by.” She sighed and let the hose hang by her side. “I hope it works out with this guy. His name is Tyrone.”

  “That’s a good solid name,” Jackson said.

  “Oh, he’s good and solid all right,” she said chuckling. “Yes, he is.”

  She began squirting the side of the engine Jackson had just washed, appearing lost in a memory.

  “How’d you meet him?” Jackson said.

  “At Purple Vines. I was out with a couple of friends. He was out with a couple of friends. Kaboom!”

  She trained the nozzle spray overhead for a second, water cascading down on both her and Jackson’s scalps.

  He shook his head and wiped his face with his palm. “Well, that’s refreshing.”

  “Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish side-eye. “I meant to illustrate that’s what it was like for me. I mean, come on, hot new guy strolls into town, and he’s black, and he’s single? He’s a construction supervisor over at those new apartments going in on 5th Street.”

  “Does that mean he moved here?” Jackson dipped and rinsed his sponge again. Then, he started cleaning the grimy wheels.

  “Temporarily.” She pursed her lips. “It’s a ‘we’ll see’ sort of thing. Hence, my commentary on stalling out. I don’t think either of us wants to fully commit to anything until he’s sure he’s going to live here. Long-distance relationships aren’t my thing.”

  Jackson hesitated, and then said, “Have you ever felt crazy in a relationship? Like, such strong emotions, you can’t seem to corral them?”

  Cassandra smirked. “You mean have I been in love?”

  His cheeks and neck grew warm, and not just from the sun. “I guess so.”

  Crouching, he pushed his finger into the sponge to get at a particularly dirty spot on the wheel.

  “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson.” Her tone seemed teasing and playful.

  He looked up at her. “What?”

  She smiled. “Love doesn’t play nice with its victims. It’s meant to tear apart and transform. Not only does it make you do, think, and feel things you consider insane when you’re not in love, but it makes you feel like you’re going to shoot to the moon on one day and like knives are sticking in your chest and worms are crawling out the next day. That’s not what Tyrone and I have, not by a long shot, but, yeah, I’ve been there.” She pressed her lips into a hard line. “He died in a car accident a few years back. That’s one of the reasons I moved out here. I had to get away from all that was familiar.”

  “Ouch.” He pushed to stand and leaned against the rig.

  “Yeah, like way ouch. We were going to get married and have babies and live happily ever after.”

  “I’m truly sorry to hear that. That must have sucked hard.”

  “Oh, it did. It still gets to me, but I’m trying to move into the now.”

  “I hear that.” Jackson bit the inside of his cheek. “So, uh…when you were together, did you ever worry about losing him?”

  “David? Yeah. I fell hard for him. I loved him truly, madly, deeply. We went to school together. High school. Then, college. Then, I pursued my path, and he pursued his. He was a cop, so I worried about him every day he donned his uniform. He was always so proud of me for pursuing firefighting.” She sniffled. Then, she turned and faced him, propping one hand on her hip. “Why are you asking me all this shit? Are you and your girl going through something?”

  “Sort of,” he said, discomfort making an unwelcome appearance in his clenched stomach.

  “You two are the poster children of relationship goals. I’ve seen the way you look at one another at events.” She smiled. “What’s going on?”

  He paused, trying to decide how much to say. “Well, …we had our first fight.”

  Cassandra spluttered. “How long have you two been together?”

  Flames crawled up his cheeks. “Six months or so?”

  “And you just had your first fight?” Her eyes widened.

  “We’ve had disagreements and such.” Mostly about my brother. “They seemed like fights, but they weren’t really.”

  “But this one was a whopper where the grit met the gravy?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And you thought the sky was falling and the world was all dark and would
never be light again?”

  “Sort of.”

  Yes, yes, and yes.

  “Did you get through it?” She pressed the nozzle handle and squirted water on the front bumper.

  “More or less.”

  “And you’re worried it’s going to get dark again and it will be over?” She trained the stream on the windshield.

  “I guess so.”

  “That means she’s got you by the nads, Jackson.”

  “Who? Blaire?”

  “No. Love’s got you.” She made a fist, gritted her teeth, and squeezed. “I’m afraid I don’t have advice for you, buddy. I used to think that way about David and look what happened. I lost him. I dated a guy a year ago and started to fall for him and then we had our first big fight. It was over after that. We never recovered.” She released the nozzle and stared at him. “But if it’s worth it—if she’s worth it—keep fighting for the love. You’re a firefighter, not a wimpy, pansy-ass who runs at the sign of danger.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  She’s right. I do know how to fight adversity. Jackson lowered to a squat again and got busy with the same wheel, feeling somewhat lighter. Maybe sharing isn’t such a bad deal.

  His phone blasted Radioactive, so he slid it free of his pocket and looked at the display.

  Jake. Shit.

  Moving out of earshot, he connected and said, “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Jake said.

  “No situations?”

  “Nope.”

  Jackson’s shoulders relaxed. “Can I do something for you?”

  “I, uh…I want to talk to you about our camping trip.” Jake’s voice sounded hesitant.

  “What?” Jackson’s brow furrowed. Then, he remembered his so-called “great idea” to take his brother camping. In all the chaos of life and Blaire’s news grenade, he’d completely forgotten about it.

  “Camping. With you. You asked me to go camping with you.”

  “Right, right, I remember. Sorry, it’s noisy by the road, and I couldn’t hear you. Of course I remember.”

  “Do you still want to do it?”

  Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Things are pretty hectic.” Silence filled his ear, dragging more guilt in its wake. He tried to drum up enthusiasm for the idea, not wanting to disappoint his brother. “Don’t disappear on me, Jake. I only meant that things are crazy at the moment. Now might not be the best time to talk about it.”

  “Oh.”

  More silence.

  “So, you still want to do it?” Jake finally said.

  Jackson swallowed back the no and said, “Sure. Sure, I do. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay, good. I thought you were going to back out. I want to go.”

  “Do you? You weren’t so sure when I sprang it on you.” Jackson squeezed the bridge of his nose.

  “You just kind of hit me with it. We never do stuff anymore, but I’m, uh…I’m working to change.”

  Jackson straightened. “Are you?”

  “What, you don’t think I can? You think you’re the only one who can do good things?” Jake said, poking holes in Jackson’s gut with his shame-and-blame fork.

  Jackson took a long, slow breath. Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait. “No, Jake, I don’t think that. I’m happy to hear you want to change. Sure, let’s plan it out.”

  “Want to buy me lunch, and we can talk about it?”

  Jackson ground his teeth. So, that’s his deal. He only wants to use the camping deal to get free food. “I’m working a twenty-four. Not off until tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay. Tomorrow works for me.”

  Jackson punched his chest a couple of times with the side of his fist, trying to stop the sarcastic retort threatening to explode from his mouth. When does Jake not have time to meet? It’s not like he has a job.

  “Mountain Grub diner?” Jake said. “One o’clock? I know it’s late, but I have an, uh…appointment before that.”

  “An appointment, huh?” Jackson said, with a sigh. Probably a drug deal. “Sure, that works.” His screen binged with another incoming call. Blaire. “Jake, I gotta catch this other call, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jake said.

  Jackson slid the connect icon to Blaire’s call. “Hey, babe, what’s up?”

  “Jackson?” Her voice sounded tremulous and small, kicking him into high alert.

  “What’s up?”

  “He’s trying to contact me.”

  “Who? Who’s trying to contact you,” he said, knowing the answer full well.

  “It’s Karlos. I just got a text.”

  Jackson strangled the mobile device in his hand. “What did he say?”

  A shuddering breath met his ear.

  “He said…the text says…mi pequeño pájaro cantor.”

  “Which means?” Jackson said.

  “When are you going to come home?”

  Chapter 19

  Blaire stood in the front room hyperventilating, hoping Jackson’s voice would calm her frayed nerves. She’d been ready to head out the door and go for a run when she received the frigging text that sent her bones into a deep freeze.

  Karlos had tracked her down, somehow found her unlisted number, and sent her a text, asking her when she was coming home. She was at home. Right here in the house she shared with Jackson. She would never set foot in Venezuela again. Hell, she would never set foot in South America. But then, maybe there was no place she could land and still feel safe.

  “Whatever you do, don’t answer him,” Jackson said.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” A barrage of thoughts answered her question. I’m the idiot who got swept away by an evil prince because I felt desperate and needy and unseen.

  “Blaire,” he began.

  “Don’t answer that.” As she paced, she brought her finger to her teeth and gnawed at her fingertip, since she’d chewed her nails to nothing. “If he’s got my number, he’s got to know my address, too. We’re going to have to move. I’m going to have to move. We can’t live in this town.”

  “Calm down, sweetheart,” Jackson said, in his reassuring paramedic baritone. “Knowing someone’s unlisted number doesn’t give them access to your address.”

  “Jackson, you don’t get it. I saw him slit the throat of one of his enemies. In cold blood. Slit. Their. Throat. He didn’t know I was watching. I was supposed to be doing my job to trick another unsuspecting woman, trick her into thinking I needed her help.”

  A lengthy silence stretched between them. She could picture Jackson’s wheels turning and turning, seeking solutions, while her impulse was to run as far and as fast as she could.

  She wandered toward the sliding glass doors. Outside, Maxine and Midget were up to their usual mischief.

  “Goddamn it,” she said. “Damn dogs.”

  “What?” he said.

  “Midget and Maxine dug underneath the fencing you put up to keep my garden safe. They’re in there digging again.” She stormed out the back door. “Bad dogs!”

  “You need to be the calm leader,” Jackson said, trying his very best to be soothing, she was certain.

  “I’m too freaked out to be calm.”

  “Blaire,” he said again.

  The faint clang of tones crashed through the phone.

  “Damn it, I’m being toned out. You know I can’t leave the station. Is there somewhere you can go to feel safe? Lola’s?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Okay, okay…deep, slow breaths and all that. I’ve got it,” she said.

  “I’ve got to go. We’ll fix this. We’ll keep you safe, promise. I love you with all my heart,” he said. “Every bit of it. All of me.”

  That brought a smile to her heart. Her freak-out came to an abrupt halt. “And I love you, too.”

  After she hung up the phone, her panic resumed.

  Good God, I need to move, to run, anything to stop the fear ratcheting through my body.

  She knew Jac
kson would try his best to keep her safe, but dealing with Karlos was way outside his wheelhouse.

  Karlos Rivera was a blood-thirsty maniac.

  Feeling like her spirit might eject from her skin, she raced to the kitchen, grabbed the leashes and her keys from the hook on the wall, jammed her wallet in her pocket, and powered back outside.

  Both dogs looked up from their digging. This time they didn’t wag their tails. Instead, a sheepish sort of expression fell upon both their faces.

  Good. They know they’re not supposed to be in there. Even though Blaire wanted to scream at them, she took one long breath and opened the garden gate.

  “Come,” she commanded. She sighed at the dug-up lettuce and tomatoes.

  Maxine looked at Midget.

  Midget looked at Maxine.

  “Come,” she repeated.

  Both dogs slunk toward her.

  “Sit,” she said.

  Maxine wagged her tail.

  Midget looked at Maxine.

  “Sit,” she repeated.

  Both dogs sat.

  She clipped the leashes to their collars.

  “Now fucking stay,” she blurted.

  Maxine wagged her tail again.

  Blaire held up her hand, palm out, and said, “Stay.”

  They looked at her expectantly.

  “Stay,” she repeated, dropping the leashes.

  She backed into the garden and picked up two fallen tomato plants. The lettuce starts would have to be repurchased, but maybe she could keep these two alive. Keeping her eyes on the dogs, she carefully inserted the roots of the tomatoes into the messy holes the dogs had dug and patted the soil around the stems. She stood up, wiped her hands on her jeans, and walked toward the dogs.

  “Stay,” she said, as eagerness shone in their eyes. She picked up their leashes and said, “Good girls. Good dogs.”

  They each lunged to their feet, and their tails spun like helicopter propellers.

  She wished she felt the same—with that interlude over, her thoughts veered back to Venezuela. With one leash in each hand, she took off around the side yard and headed for the road.