“It’s Daddy Jasper.” Martin slapped me on the back as I walked into the kitchen. “And late as usual.”
Frowning, I turned toward the large clock on the wall. Damn. I was one minute late, but everyone always gave me shit.
Magnus, our rookie, gave me a nod as he filled a mug with coffee. He’d earned my respect by helping me buy baby gear, and he’d done a damn good job putting the stroller together.
The kitchen was usually pretty quiet in the morning, but today, the adrenaline was palpable, like they’d just gotten back from a call.
I cleared my throat and stepped up to the coffee pot. “Busy night?”
Chris slid up beside me, reaching for the sugar. “Nah. Dead. Everything is weird now, you know.” He raised a bushy eyebrow.
My stomach sank. The murder. The thing the whole town was simultaneously talking about andnottalking about.
I gave him a nod and headed for the table.
He, Martin, and Chief Ashburn had responded to the scene. Thankfully I had only witnessed the aftermath after getting Evie loaded into the ambulance.
“Still can’t believe you’re a dad,” he said, easing into the chair beside me. “Kid got all ten fingers and ten toes?”
Head bowed over my coffee, I nodded.
“I believe it?” Martin added. “I’m shocked it took this long for Lawrence to have an oopsie baby. You should probably check every other small town in Vermont, make sure he’s the only one.”
Rage bubbled up inside me, the sensation strange. I’d never let the ribbing the crew dished out bother me before. But this was different. I hated the idea of Evie being associated with allmy past flings. Like she was just another girl. Because she was so much more.
A desire to protect Evie and Vincent flared inside me. They were family now.
“Should we take bets on when another one will turn up?” Magnus added eagerly.
Chris and Martin stopped and stared at him. “Fuck you, Rookie.”
I smirked. My crew could talk shit about me, but we all upheld certain lines. Letting the rookie join in was one of them. At least some things were still sacred.
“His name is Vincent.” I unlocked my phone screen and slid the device to the middle of the table.
All three of the guys leaned in.
“Cute baby.”
“Hope he gets his brains from his mom.”
Before I could protest, Chief Ashburn came out of her office, her favorite glittery pink coffee mug in hand.
“I heard the news,” she said. “Show me photos.”
The chief was tall with streaks of silver cutting through her dark braid. In her late forties, she carried herself with the kind of authority that made even the loudest guy in the room shut the hell up. I’d seen her drag a full-grown man out of a burning barn with a dislocated shoulder. Nothing rattled this woman.
We were midway through my Vincent slideshow when the alarm rang. In seconds, we were up and moving, going through the motions and procedures we’d practiced over and over again. Our team was small, and we were vastly different people, but when that alarm rang, we operated in perfect sync.
As we rattled down the narrow Maplewood streets, siren wailing, I checked my SCBA straps. Beside me, Magnus fumbled with his gear. Chris navigated the rig with precision while Chief communicated with dispatch.
“Chimney fire.”
Those two words instantly slowed my heart rate. After the Maple Fest incident, it was easy to assume the worst, but this was a common occurrence. A lot of folks in the area had wood stoves and fireplaces, and it was still chilly out.
“Damn chimneys,” Martin grumbled. “When will people learn they require proper maintenance?”
“Don’t complain,” Chris chastised. “After what we saw over the weekend? I’d gladly rescue kittens from trees every day for the next ten years.”
