Page 76 of Burning For You

“I think that is the right thing to do,” she argued.

“It is.” Brenna hesitated. “I’m concerned this might open up your past. You know, bring back bad memories. You survived something horrible. You’ve moved on. It’s not always wise to revisit the past.”

“It’s not triggering anything if that is what you’re worried about. I promise you. It’s all good. I’m good. I really am.” There was no reason to bring her sister in on her thoughts of her past and this future issue. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s always easy to tell someone not to worry, but not so easy to follow it.”

“I know. And I hate to do this, but finish your coffee and get out. I’m behind and have to get a project done by five.”

“Well, if you weren’t chasing fires and boinking a sexy fireman, maybe your work would be done.”

She shoved at Brenna’s arm and then reached for the almost empty coffee cup. “Whether or not that is the reason, I still need to earn my paycheck. So out.”

“I’m going,” Brenna said, waited a beat, then reached in and gave her a hug.

She returned it even when everyone knew she wasn’t much of a tender touchy feely person.

Maybe there were more changes in her life than she was willing to admit.

20

PLAY THAT GAME

The next night, the alarms went off just after ten. It’d felt as if he’d only been asleep for a minute, if that.

He barely had time to register the sound before his body reacted. Reaction snapped him upright, his heart already pounding. It’d been a long day of bullshit calls. False alarms. Fender benders. Smoke scares that went nowhere.

Not that he ever had a problem with a day like that.

But it never stayed that way. There was always one that made up for all the rest.

“Here we go again,” Bruce muttered as they moved.

The bunks emptied. Gear was yanked on. Boots hit floor hard as they sprinted for the bay. The truck roared to life just as the call came across the radio.

“Structure fire.”

His jaw tightened. “Sounds like the real thing.”

More chatter followed. Police units now, voices sharp and urgent.

Not the false alarm he might have been hoping for. Not when it sounded as if an officer had driven past and spotted flames.

That sent a cold thread straight down his spine.

The engine tore through town, sirens screaming, lights painting the buildings red in the cold darkness. He braced himself as they took turns too fast, just like he always did, his adrenaline sharpening everything.

They skidded to a stop in front of an abandoned building.

And then his stomach dropped.

A big one. Old. Run-down. Boarded windows, graffiti crawling up the brick. Another empty structure sat right beside it too close for comfort.

“Shit,” someone breathed.

Everyone knew this place.

The homeless used it to get out of the cold. Dealers worked the shadows. Who the hell knew what was inside? Propane tanks, trash fires, makeshift wiring, chemicals that could turn bad fast.