A low rumble sounded outside Cassie’s condo. She peeked out the front window and caught her breath. A shiny, black, convertible Mustang roared into a parking space. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from what was obviously a collector’s car. A 1969, if she had her guess.
She watched Mike’s large frame as he crawled from the low car, thinking of the major difference between it and his big four-wheel-drive truck. He pulled his phone from his pocket.
Cassie ran to the bathroom to check her appearance and her cell phone rang. Retracing her steps, she grabbed it and gave an out-of-breath hello.
“Hi yourself. Are you ready? I don’t want to leave my car unattended for long.”
“What year is it?”
“You see me?”
“I heard you first.” His laugh sizzled her insides. “Give me two minutes.” She ended the call before he could say another word. She gathered her hair up in a ponytail, snatched her purse, made sure she had her keys, and slammed the door behind her.
Mike leaned against the rear fender, a big smile and a pair of sunglass on his face.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Hello, handsome. Think I can catch a ride?”
“Your wish is my command.”
He opened the passenger door and waited for her to get inside. While he sauntered to the driver’s door, Cassie ran her fingers over the smooth, red leather interior.
“It’s beautiful, Mike.”
“1969,” he said, and she realized he’d answered the question she’d asked on the phone.
“428 or 390?”
“You know cars?”
“I know Mustangs. A sixty-nine fastback is my favorite body style.”
“428 Cobra jet with a four-speed transmission.”
“Smooth. There have been a lot of changes in body styles over the years. I’m glad Ford brought back the 1969 design for the newer models. Where did you get your love for Mustangs?”
“My dad. He liked hot cars. How about you?”
“My uncle. He had a sixty-four and a half, a 1969 Mach I and a 1970 302 Boss.”
Mike whistled through his teeth. “You do know your cars.” He turned the key and the engine cranked right over, purring like a lion.
“Buckle up.”
She quickly obeyed, then leaned back, enjoying the wind blowing a few wisps of hair about her face.
The blue sky held few clouds and the sun’s rays flickered through the trees as Mike maneuvered down the open road. A glorious day for a ride in a convertible. He followed Route 250 up Skyline Drive and turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. He shifted the gears with precision, very different from her days of driving a stick shift. She remembered her first time, learning to drive a standard transmission on her friend’s car. In a mall parking lot. After a few jumps and leaps, Cassie had gotten the hang of it.
No communication was necessary. Every now and then Mike would turn to her and give her one of his sensual grins. He popped in a CD and turned up the volume so the music could be heard over the engine and the roaring wind. Rock and roll from the eighties blasted from the speakers. Another thing they had in common. She loved the oldies music.
Cassie leaned her head against the headrest, listening to the songs, appreciating the scenery, relishing not having a care in the world. Ahh, the freedom of just being. No restraints, no conditions, no thought, no obstacles, no worries.
Mike pointed out a few landmarks and when they hit a straight stretch, he hit the gas. The engine revved, and her excitement right along with it. Mike smiled with pride. His handsome mouth tilted up at the corners, making her heart flip and triggering flickers of desire dancing in her belly. Could a man be more perfect?
An hour later, he pulled into Pecks BBQ.
“I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed anything more.” She took his hand as he helped her from the car. She’d been excited to ride in a collector’s car, but the tingles that swept up her arm just from his touch had her electrified.
“I get the same feeling every time I take her out.”
“Lucky you.”
“Don’t worry. If you’re a good girl, I’ll take you for another ride.”
Cassie immediately presumed a different kind of ride. One involving her on Mike’s lap. By the sparkle in his eyes, the double meaning had been exactly what he’d intended. Her belly quivered.
Although it was spring, the temperature had reached eighty-three degrees. Mike opened the door of the restaurant and motioned for her to enter. When she stepped inside, cool air hit her face along with the scrumptious smell of Peck’s barbeque sauce. He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to a table in the corner where he could keep an eye on his car. A rush of warm tingles raced up her spine. She immediately felt the loss when he removed his hand.
After the waitress took their order, Cassie glanced out the window admiring Mike’s Mustang. “How long have you had it?”
“Longer than I’ve been able to drive it. It hasn’t always looked like that.”
“I can tell a lot of work went into it.”
“Dad taught me everything he knew about cars. He had a 1966 Mustang. When he wasn’t fighting fires, he was working on it. Then, when I was old enough to drive, he let me take it out once in a while. Showed me how to take care of—what he called—a muscle car.”
“She looks like she has plenty of muscle.” Just like its owner.
“She?”
“You used the word she earlier. I believe you said you get the same feeling when you take her out. Do all men think of their cars as females?”
Mike laughed. “Cars are a slight easier to handle.”
“Hmm.” She propped her elbow on the table and braced her chin on her palm. “Tell me you didn’t name your car.”
“I did not name my car.”
Cassie jerked up in surprise. “You’re kidding. I thought all guys named their cars.”
“Not this guy.”
The waitress brought their food and they dove in.
“Mmm, this is good.” Cassie licked a drop of sauce from her lip. When she met Mike’s gaze, his eyes were fastened on her mouth and the heated look in them caused a flurry in her belly.
He gave a slight groan and took a big bite of his barbeque. The sexual tension broken, she chewed her food.
“You were telling me about your muscle car.”
“When I was a teenager, I got a part time job working in a mechanic shop. The owner had a Mustang and I wanted to buy it. My dad said I could get the car or go to college. And I better make the right choice. Which was his way of telling me to forget the car.”
“So, you went to college?”
“Yep. But I never forgot about that car. After I graduated from Penn State, I went back to that garage looking for that car.”
She dropped her bun in its basket and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “What a great story. You bought it after all those years?”
“No. It was gone. He sold it.”
Her smile turned down to a frown. That sucks. “That is not a good story. I expected a happy ending.”
He gazed at her under heavy lids. “There’s a happy part. The shop owner offered to hire me right away.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good. I guess.” She’d expected him to be upset, but his shrug told her he was okay with the car being gone. She would have been devastated.
“I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life and I hadn’t gotten a job yet, but I knew I wanted my own Mustang. I went to work for him, saved my money and one day this guy pulled in with a flat bed and guess what was sitting on the back.”
“Your Mustang.”
“The very same. The guy was hauling it off to auction.”
“To auction? Why?”
“Turns out, right after the man bought the car all those years ago, he got a divorce. Said his wife sucked him dry. Lost his house, his wife thought the car was a piece of junk so she let him have it, but he no longer had a garage to keep it in. Friends covered it up and kept it behind their barn. He didn’t have the money to restore it, so finally decided to get rid of it. Wouldn’t start, needed work, so he was taking it to auction. I bought it right then and there.”
“What a stroke of luck.”
“Never put much stock in luck.”
“You have to admit the timing was extraordinary. Tell me. What did it look like?” Cassie asked, then stuffed some fries in her mouth.
“Not like that.” He nodded toward the window.
“I didn’t think so.” She shook her head. Cassie knew from her uncle that it took a good deal of money and a lot of work to make a car look like that.
“A rust bucket with a torn cloth for a roof. I had to replace just about everything. Starting with the engine.”
“You buy one or build it?” she asked, popping another fry into her mouth. His brows rose in disbelief.
“A mechanic in a mechanic shop. What do you think?”
She’d suspected the answer before she asked. Still, she had to laugh at his expression. “From scratch?”
Mike nodded with his mouth full. He took a gulp of his drink to wash down his food.
“I sanded down the engine block and rebuilt the engine piece by piece.”
Cassie thought back to an image she remembered of her uncle standing in the middle of a Mustang frame where the engine should have been. At the time, she’d been stunned. She couldn’t get over seeing the empty space. Since her dad never took an interest in older cars or restoration, she’d spent a lot of time with her uncle.
“I bet it took you a long time.”
“Years. I still had my job. I lived with my dad so I decided to build a big garage in the back yard. Dad was all for it and I could take my time with the car. Worked on it nights and weekends. Saved my money for parts. When I made up my mind to join the fire department, I had even less time to devote to the car.”
A flicker of interest crossed her mind, making her wonder what made him join the fire department. But it disappeared as she stared at the shining car.
“You did a wonderful job. I know restoring cars is expensive.”
“Especially if you want to use original parts. Body work isn’t cheap either.”
“I love the black.”
“It had to be just right. It was originally white with a red top.”
“You’re kidding,” she said in surprise.
“I found a body shop that did excellent work.” He talked as he dug in his fries. “The shop did repair work for insurance companies, too. Those jobs came first since they had a deadline, working on mine in between. They had the mustang body for six months.”
“The body?”
“I had the engine on a hoist in my garage.”
Suddenly Cassie wanted to see his garage. She imagined a huge building with every sort of mechanical tool in existence. A huge open space with lots of room to work. Maybe even a few cars parked inside.
“What made you choose black?” It occurred to Cassie his truck was also black.
“Have you ever noticed there’s not a prettier car than black when it’s all shined up?”
“Black cars are pretty, but hard to keep clean.”
“That’s true.” Mike leaned back and Cassie noticed he’d polished off two of Peck’s barbeques while she’d eaten one.
“I’m glad you stopped here. I haven’t had Peck’s in a long time.”
“He serves the best barbeque.”
She picked up a fry and thought of how Mike spoke of his dad but never mentioned his mom. She wondered if his mother was still in the picture. Maybe Cassie should leave that topic alone.
“Does your dad live around here?”
“No. After his retirement, his sister bugged him until he finally gave in and moved to North Carolina. She thought he couldn’t take care of himself. Although, I think there was an ulterior motive. She said she wanted him close so she could keep an eye on him. But I think she was playing matchmaker, or whatever you call it. She told Dad I needed my space. She hinted that I needed to find a woman and needed the house for when I got married.”
“Sly woman.”
“I love my relatives, but I don’t need them running my life. Still, Dad moved. He’s happy.”
“He lives with her?”
“God, no. Those two would kill each other if they lived under the same roof. But she’s a great cook and carries food to his house every day.”
“And you stayed here.”
“I had a career with Station Eight. Dad sold me the house, dirt cheap. Wouldn’t have made me pay anything, but he needed money for a place in North Carolina.”
“Why did you become a firefighter?”
A flicker of sadness entered his eyes and was quickly extinguished.
“It’s in the genes.”
“In the genes?”
“I’ve been around firefighters all my life. My dad took me with him to the firehouse a lot. Guess it grew on me.”
“I think there’s more. You’re good at your job. I’ve seen you in action, remember?”
“Can’t deny that. I like helping people, putting out fires.” His eyes bore into hers. “It’s what I do.”
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to make of his expression. Okay, change of subject. The question of his mom nagged at the back of her mind. She bit her tongue. What could be so bad? She took a plunge.
“What about your mom?”
A cloud covered Mike’s face making Cassie wish she’d kept her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful memory.”
“I don’t usually talk about her because she walked out.”
Way to go, Cass. Here was a wound that obviously had not healed.
“What about your family? Are you from around here?” He smoothly steered the subject to her.
“Born and raised in Staunton. My parents are from Highland County. Both grew up on farms. Moved to the big city when they got married. I have one sister, thank God. If I had another one like her I would not have made it to adulthood.”
“That bad?”
“You have no idea.” Discussing her sister would put her in a bad mood. She had no desire to waste time chatting about Jennifer. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“None. I’m it. Just me and my dad since I was little.”
“He never remarried?”
“Nope.” Mike flipped the check over, glancing at the amount. Cassie took his short answer as meaning end of discussion.
“You ready?”
“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to get back in your muscle car.”
***
Mike had hoped to spend the evening with Cassie, but she received a phone call from her sister and it upset her. She didn’t want to talk about it and suddenly the pleasant harmony of the afternoon changed to a dark cloud hanging over their day. Listening to her end of the conversation, he gathered the sister had called Cassie to come pick up their mother. That wasn’t the part she’d been upset about. The sister was supposed to take care of her mom and changed her mind. She wanted to go out and told Cassie she had to come get their mother. There was more to it, but he could tell she didn’t want to argue over the phone. That put an end to their evening.
It wasn’t all bad. He had one hell of a goodbye kiss. If she hadn’t been in a hurry, he might have had more. Their quick, passionate embrace gave him something to look forward to.
His phone beeped. He didn’t text when he drove, but being a firefighter, he kept up with alerts in case he was needed at the station.
Jared.
He called the station. Jared answered on the first ring.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, man. Shep is calling the team in for a special meeting.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. Hooley’s here. They had a powwow and Shep told me to get you guys in here.”
“Be there in ten.”
Mike took the next right and headed to Station Eight.
Ten minutes later, he strode into the firehouse and found Jared reclined on one of the sofas with his boots propped on a low table. Laredo and a new volunteer were trying to kill each other on the big TV screen via video game. Two teenagers, regular hangouts who had dreams of becoming firefighters, urged the players on with shouts of instructions and cheers. When Jared saw Mike, he dropped his feet to the floor and stood.
“What were you doing at the station?” Mike asked him.
“Edgar got a new Harley. Drove over to check it out. Cap saw me. Told me to get the rest of the team. Pronto.” Jared gave a toss of his head toward Shep’s office. “Hooley’s in there. Been holed up ever since I came inside. Cap stuck his head out a few minutes ago. I told him you were on your way.”
“What’s going on?”
“Didn’t say. With the investigator here, I figure it’s about the explosion at the training sight. Maybe Hooley found something.”
Mike hoped so. The damn incident had been chafing his brain for weeks. If Hooley didn’t have any news, Mike would grab Jared and Laredo and head back out to the Wimer property. Have another look.
A door slammed with a bang. Cooper stomped into the day room, complaining.
“A guy finally gets a night off. I don’t see no fire. There better be a good reason you called me back in here.”
“Cap said call, I called.” Jared gave a shrug.
“Get over it, pup. You’re not the only one who had to end a hot date.”
Jared smiled at Mike, obviously deducing he’d been out with Cassie. “Only Cooper’s hot date was with Halo Reach.”
Mike raised his brows. “A video game?”
“I’ll have you know I was winning.”
Mike glanced over to the side of the room at the group playing with handheld controls. He’d never gotten into the gaming scene, but his coworkers sure were involved. One of the teens grabbed Laredo’s control.
“My turn.”
The door to Shep’s office opened, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Good. You’re all here. Come on in.”
This felt a lot like Mike’s school days, getting called to the principal’s office. Hooley, the fire inspector, stood to the left, leaning against the wall. Mike nodded to him and took one of the empty chairs in front of Shep’s desk. Jared took the other one while Laredo and Cooper filed in along the back wall.
“I know you all have been waiting, so Hooley is here to give us an update.”
“You find out what happened at the training site?” Jared directed his question to Hooley.
Hooley pushed away from the wall and pursed his lips. “I found several things. For one, the explosion was most definitely arson. We gathered quite a bit of evidence. Gas tanks that an individual had to place and open at just the right time.”
“How the hell was that possible?” Mike burst out. “I was there. Chief Wilson follows procedures by the book. He would not be so careless.”
“We agree on that,” Hooley replied. “I spent a lot of time with the firefighters at Station Nine this past week. I have the film of that day loaded on my computer and I want each of you to take a look at it.”
“Hell, I forgot about the camera,” Laredo said, shoving a hand through his hair. “Is there something on there?”
“I’ve gone over it, but I want you guys to see if you notice anything out of the routine. Anything that might be off.”
“You were a firefighter before you became an investigator. You’d know if something didn’t look right,” Mike told Hooley.
“More eyes, more opportunity that each man might see something different,” Hooley replied.
“Sure thing. Let’s see this film.” Cooper leaned forward, staring at the computer monitor.
Hooley hit a button and the screen came to life. The horrific explosion blew up on screen just as Mike remembered it. He watched every gruesome detail as men shouted and ran. He focused on the team, the instructor, Ryan as he threw the torch. When the footage ended, Hooley started the tape again.
“I didn’t see anything,” Cooper said with noticeable disappointment.
“It was a clusterfuck.” Jared fisted his hands.
“After the explosion, every man went into action. Looks to me like they did exactly what they were supposed to do,” Shep said.
“Take another look,” Hooley slowed down the feed. “Anything. Anything at all.”
There was too much going on at a rushed speed to catch everything. When the clip stopped, Hooley hit the feed again. And again. By the fourth time—
“Stop. Right there.” Mike pointed. “Back it up.”
Hooley backed up the action.
“There.” Mike stared at the man in a flame-retardant suit.
“What is it?” Shep asked.
“That guy. He was right at the heart of the explosion just a few minutes back. Watch. Back it up.”
Hooley rewound the clip a few frames and froze the image.
“Would you look at that?” Cooper whistled through his teeth.
“If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it. He’s a member of Station Nine.”
Hooley gave Laredo a puzzled look. “Chief says this isn’t one of his guys.”
Mike jerked his head in amazement. Between the film and Hooley’s statement, it was just too much to absorb. Bad enough suspecting a firefighter. But who the hell was this guy if he didn’t belong to Station Nine? He squinted at the image on the screen.
“Got too much gear on to see who he is. The number on his helmet is definitely Station Nine.”
“Every Captain at each of the five stations that were on sight that day has seen this film. Every firefighter has been identified but one. Him.” Hooley pointed to the same man Mike had indicated. “I’ve been calling in every member of each firehouse to see if we can figure out who this guy is. No one has recognized him.”
“At least we know where he got his uniform.” Cooper stepped around Mike’s chair. “Some guy just waltzed into Station Nine and took their gear?”
“It’s only five miles from Station Eight,” Mike muttered out loud. Someone could just as easily have filched a suit from any of the firehouses. Who the hell would do that?
“And why?” Laredo uttered.
“This guy could be anyone,” Hooley explained. “We have no idea of motive. He could have chosen a firehouse randomly or he could have a beef with a certain individual.”
“Maybe we better keep an eye out since we leave our doors open most of the time.” Shep made eye contact with each member of the team.
“This guy is good,” Hooley warned. “He left no trace or clue of his identity. This is our only lead and you guys can see for yourself, it’s not much.”
Not much? It was worthless. Some guy in a fire-suit.
Mike’s gut twisted with unease. It didn’t sit well with him that some nut-job was out there targeting firefighters.