She offered a compromise. “We’ll see the new superhero flick next week, okay?”
“Fine.” He couldn’t wait for the movie to start and had just muted his phone when he saw a message from J.T. that saidURGENTin big bold letters.
“You need to turn your phone off,” she whispered as the lights went down for the previews.
But when he read what J.T. had to say, he knew their evening wouldn’t be filled with laughter and smiles. Not at all.
They arrived at Rena’s salon to see a fire truck and several bodybuilder types standing around the back, watching as firefighters put out the fire.
“Oh no.” Rena bolted from the truck before he’d turned off the vehicle.
“Wait,” he cautioned too late and hurried to join her.
One of the bodybuilders caught her before she could rush toward the truck. “Hold on, Miss.”
Axel reached them and drew Rena into his arms, feeling for her as they watched her shop burn.
The back half of her shop, where the graffiti had been, was black, but the firefighters continued to hose down the inside. “How much damage? Does anyone know?” he asked, though it was probably too early to tell.
“We were driving by and stopped to try to help. We’re firefighters off duty,” one of the men said, turning around. He had sandy-colored hair and a large build. He saw Rena, now sobbing in Axel’s arms, and expressed sympathy. “At least it looks like they got here in time to stop any major damage.”
Axel had no idea what that meant. “What happened?” He turned to Rena. “No one was working tonight, were they?”
She gasped. “No, they shouldn’t have been.”
J.T. pulled up and soon joined them. “This sucks.”
Axel nodded.
The off-duty firemen in front of them lasered in on Rena. All of them looked athletic, fit, and strong. The two white guys wore shirts with an animal rescue logo on them. The one with a darker tan and the African American with huge biceps wore Seattle FD shirts.
“Are you the owner?” the sandy-haired one who’d spoken earlier asked.
Axel answered for her since Rena had a tough time not crying. “She is. And she had a problem a few days ago with some graffiti. This might have escalated.”
“Well, shit—er, shoot,” the black firefighter said. “That’s awful. Did you report the graffiti?”
“She took pictures,” Axel said, aware of J.T.’s scowl. “But reporting it would have done little. We only think we knew who did it.”
“Racist assholes,” J.T. muttered.
Axel wanted to change the subject because Rena’s tears were tearing him up; he hated that she’d been hurt again. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. “Are you all firefighters, or are you two”—he spoke to the guys in the vet rescue shirts—“animal people?”
The darkly tanned man smiled. The tallest of the bunch, he spoke with a Southern accent. “We’re all FD, part of the new station as a matter of fact. I’m Tex.”
“Brad,” the sandy-haired man said and held out a hand. “That’s Reggie, and that’s Mack.” He pointed to the black man and the other white guy. “We actually do both. Firefighting and helping rehome strays.”
“Oh.” Rena wiped her eyes while Axel kept close for support, his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been fostering a stray Chihuahua I found outside the shop a week ago. And Axel’s got a pregnant cat. Unless he’s planning on keeping the cat and her kittens, they’ll need good homes.”
Axel nodded. “Axel Heller. This is Rena Jackson and her cousin, J.T.”
Tex and Mack gave her more interest than Axel appreciated.
Brad frowned at them and stepped forward, holding out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sure am sorry about your shop.”
“Come on, guys.” Reggie sounded disgusted. “Rena’s got enough to worry about.”
“What?” Tex sounded sincerely confused. “I’m thinking about those kittens. Wonder if we could get a station cat.”
