He heaved a sigh. “Yeah. I’m sorry. There was this drop-dead-gorgeous redhead, or strawberry blonde, kinda golden-red—whatever—with the most incredible turquoise eyes… We got to talking.”
“And laughing,” Miguel added.
Jayce shot him an angry look designed to shut him up.
Mrs. Fierro placed a soothing hand on Jayce’s arm. “Well, I’m not upset about it at all. I want all my boys happy, and that means settled down with a good woman.” She glanced around at her fidgeting sons, except Miguel—the only married man in the bunch, naturally.
Mr. Fierro pulled Jayce closer so he could whisper, even though all of his supernatural sons could hear him. Obviously he didn’t want their human mother to overhear. “You know I want to retire in the Caribbean, and your mama refuses to leave until you’re all married off. Flirting is fine, but remember where you are. We’re all aware that Ryan is alive, but no one else knows that, including Chloe.”
Jayce glanced over to where his brother’s fiancée, in her dress uniform, leaned against her own big brother, Rory. He seemed to be propping her up. Most firefighters had seen some horrors, but few had had to watch helplessly as the person they loved most burned to death in front of them.
“Whatever you do, don’t let it slip to that poor girl,” Antonio Fierro continued. “She’s devastated, and we can’t let her know Ryan has reincarnated. She’d never recognize him in his new form, and, well, you know what would happen…”
“Got it. Message received,” Jayce whispered back. He stepped away and said, “I think I’ll go to the restroom and see if I can muster up a few tears.” Just thinking about what that cute NY firefighter said to him was enough to dampen his mood.
Mrs. Fierro smiled at her son as he kissed her on the cheek and excused himself. She had a not-so-hidden agenda, and all of her remaining sons knew it well. But the chances of finding a lover who could stand the shock of what he really was seemed slim to none. Some girls might like to know that if the worst happened, a blazing bird would rise from its own ashes—and several weeks later their lover would return to human form. But telling the truth about their supernatural natures could have devastating consequences. Ryan had learned that with his first fiancée, Melanie. The only reason she hadn’t screamed it to the world was her fear of being locked up and labeled crazy.
The brothers had to avoid telling a potential mate until they were a hundred percent certain the love they shared was strong enough to survive such a revelation. Miguel had gotten lucky. Sandra adored him, and she always would. And as much as his mother teased his father, she’d throw herself on a sword for him. The Fierro men treated their women like the rare treasures they were.
Jayce bypassed the restroom and stepped outside. Some of his fellow firefighters were smoking. Knowing how many fires were started by unattended cigarettes, he thought the habit weird, but the stress of the job was too much for some to manage without a vice. He knew doctors and nurses who smoked too.
“Jayce!” His buddy Mike strolled over to him. “I know I said it before, but I’m really sorry about Ryan. He was a good man and, from what I’ve heard, a great firefighter. No one could have survived that backdraft.”
“I know.”
Yet somehow Chloe managed to survive.She had said she was thrown clear of the blast, but with two floors of a high-rise completely engulfed in flames, her escape was a miracle. Jayce didn’t believe in miracles.
She said she had been knocked out and really didn’t know how she had made it out alive. The theory was that she was thrown into the stairwell and had fallen onto a safe floor. When Ryan could tell his side of the story, they’d find out what really happened.
Even with a mystery like that to puzzle over, Jayce’s mind kept returning to the beautiful, redheaded, granny-panty-wearing FDNY firefighter. He doubted he’d ever see Kristine again. If he did, she’d probably still think he was some kind of cold, heartless monster.
Mike squeezed Jayce’s shoulder and wandered back to the butt can, where he crushed out his cigarette. When he returned he said, “There’s a great buffet in there. Want to get a bite to eat?”
Jayce sighed. “I don’t think I can.”
Mike nodded. “I understand, man.”
He really didn’t. The firefighter brotherhood was good for understanding a lot of things, but only his biological brothers could possibly know what he was feeling right now. Fortunately there were a lot of them, so support was never far away.
As if conjured, Luca, the youngest Fierro brother, stepped outside. “Hey, Jayce. The captain is about to make a speech.”
“Shit. Another speech?”
“I guess he didn’t want to be outdone by the chief.”
Luca and Jayce returned to the fire station where Ryan and their father had worked. It was time for the brothers to brush up on their acting skills.
Acting.Everything reminded him of Kristine, even after only a ten-minute conversation.What the hell is wrong with me?
* * *
Two days later, Kristine was back to work at her fire station in Hell’s Kitchen, back to studying for the lieutenant’s exam. Her life seemed on track, but something was missing.
Her mind had returned over and over again to that bright smile and those dark eyes glinting with naughtiness. She kept telling herself to forget about the handsome Boston lieutenant. When he had mentioned her transferring to Boston, she had thought about it for all of one heartbeat. Then she remembered everything she would be giving up in New York.
If she went to Boston, she’d have to go through the fire academy all over again and start at the bottom rung as a probie. During their early days on the job, a firefighter was on probation, therefore the term “probie” became common slang, like “rookie” for a brand-new cop. The technical term was FFOP—Firefighter on Probation. That was no better. Either way, it seemed like a slap in the face after all she’d been through. And with only a few months left to finish her degree in fire science, she had a better chance for a promotion to captain or chief someday. Not to mention that her mother depended upon her half of the rent.
Years ago, Hell’s Kitchen had been a tough neighborhood. Mother and daughter were dragons—not as vulnerable as humans, so they felt safe enough there. Then in the early ’90s, the middle class began moving in and gentrifying the area. Kristine and her mother had lived there all that time and had watched their rent go up, up, up. With no father to help or pay child support, her mother had had to work two jobs—while pursuing an acting career. Kristine vowed she would never forget that. It still took two salaries to live there, but only one of them would be her mother’s. Amy Scott had finally landed her dream job. She taught at a nearby acting school.
