Jack gritted his teeth as they did a second round of X-rays. Damn. It hurt. The damage to his arm was worse than they’d originally thought. “Whoever let you check yourself out was an idiot,” the doctor said as he pointed out a break a few inches above his wrist in addition to the original fractures. He wrote Jack a prescription for a heavy-duty painkiller and sent him down the hall to have a technician put on a waterproof plaster cast. Eric helped choose the color. Cornflower blue.
“It matches your eyes,” Diesel said.
Eric was too happy to have a day off of school to say anything snippy. He jangled his borrowed car keys and went to bring the car around.
Forty minutes later Mona’s jankety old sedan was idling in the alley behind the fire station. Jack and Diesel walked inside. They were both moving slow, quiet, walking side by side but with at least three feet of space between them. They didn’t do anything to attract attention, but halfway across the big garage bay someone spotted them.
Clap. Clap. It started with one individual and then someone else joined in until it was a wave of sound. Diesel took a half step farther away, leaving Jack to deal with the onslaught of attention by himself. “Whoop whoop!” someone shouted. “Go chief!”
“You mean ‘Go, Diesel!’” It was hard to pick him out from the crowd, but that had to be Tito.
Jack glared at the gathering crowd. “Very nice. Any of you got something useful to say?”
“You going to let us sign your cast?” Tito again, there was no mistaking his loud voice and bombastic personality.
“I’m just here to fill out some paperwork,” Jack said. “You want to deface city property, you can write each other’s phone numbers on the bathroom walls. For a good-time call.” A couple of men laughed. Most of them went back to what they’d been doing. Some things never changed, and no one ever stuck around for more than a few minutes when he started talking about paperwork.
Scaredy-cats.
His fingers tingled as he started up the firehouse stairs. Troy and Reese had texted him while he was getting the cast put on. They’d pulled all the files from the relevant shift and were waiting for him in his office.
Maybe it was Reese’s office now? Jack didn’t know. He’d made a few phone calls from the hospital to people in the department he knew and trusted. They hadn’t been able to tell him much about what was going on. Reese was spearheading the investigation, other than that the higher-ups were keeping things close to the chest. Terry Slade, one of the guys he’d trained with back in the day, figured it was a test although he didn’t know who it was for.
When he got to the top of the stairs and pushed open his door, he didn’t know what to expect.
The office was completely torn apart. Every file folder in his cabinets was pulled out and stacked on the desk or the floor.
“Croissants from the place near my apartment.” Reese gestured toward a pastry box. Troy was wedged into the corner at his right, leaving two more empty spaces around the department-issue desk. “I brought in coffee too. The stuff coming out of your kitchen is disgusting.”
“And your men make superior coffee?”
“Fuck no, those boys couldn’t brew their way out of a paper bag. That’s why I know where to buy the best coffee in the city.”
That sounded like a challenge. Jack walked over and dragged one of his extra chairs up close to the desk. He flopped down. The croissants smelled damn good. “Sweet or savory?”
“Both. I didn’t know how long we were going to be here.”
Damn. He flipped the box open. It was chock full of flaky pastry. “I knew there was something I liked about you.”
Reese didn’t answer. He was too busy looking past Jack to where Diesel was standing in the doorway. “Shit. Really? That’s Diesel Evers?”
“You’ve got a problem?”
“No. Maybe.” Reese sighed and dropped his voice down to a hushed whisper. “My granddaughter’s older than him. He’s tall, but you sure he’s legal?”
“Don’t say that too loud,” Jack snarled. “He already thinks we should break up for my career—”
“And he’s right.”
“Fuck off.” Jack turned around...damn. Diesel was standing halfway between the desk and the office’s big windows. The light from the garage bay caught in hair still shiny from the shower they’d shared that morning. In Eric’s bright red sweatpants with his sticking-out ears, he looked even younger than he was.
“Captain Nico Reese, I’d like you to meet Diesel Evers.” Jack was done hiding. He wasn’t about to let Diesel take off because of their jobs. He raised his voice to make sure that Diesel knew it was impossible to go back. “Diesel’s a transfer from New Jersey. He came very highly recommended by one of our other firefighters. You’ve met Alvarez?”
“The loudmouth.” Reese leaned back in his seat. “You worked with him before?”
“We were in the same firehouse down in Atlantic City,” Diesel said softly. “Tito’s good.”
“He is. I’m just surprised no one’s gagged him.” Reese nodded toward the last chair arranged around the desk. “You like croissants?” He waited until they were both sitting down and picking a pastry before clearing his throat. “You said you had some thoughts about the sabotage?”
“It was Diesel’s idea.” Credit where credit was due. Jack leaned forward and explained. He started at the beginning, the little problems that were more annoying than dangerous, the radio problem that should have been fixable in a matter of minutes, and then the truck. When he got to the part where the saboteur had likely screwed up his own plan—causing damage that was out of proportion with the pattern because he was unfamiliar with the equipment—Reese and Troy were nodding along.
“This was your idea?” Reese asked Diesel. “It’s smart. Good work.”
“Jack would have figured it out eventually.”
“Don’t be modest. You’re smart, from what everybody else says you’re a damn good firefighter too. You ever want to jump ship on Tracey, I’ll find you a place up in Midtown.”
Diesel didn’t say anything. He did push a piece of croissant into his mouth.
Reese nodded. “So we’re looking for guys who didn’t transfer in.”
“Guys from the city. Born and raised,” Jack said. “Not someone who moved here to go to college. Not someone who lives in one of the suburbs.”
“Right.” Reese shoved over a stack of folders. Working together, they rifled through the paperwork in record time until they had two stacks. The one on the right was large. It included Tito and Troy and Diesel. The one on the left was a hell of a lot smaller, but it wasn’t small enough. Reese tapped the smaller pile. “What else do we know about this guy?”
“I saw him run,” Diesel finally piped up. “He’s shorter than me—”
“Not hard.”
“But he’s fast. He’s in good shape. Young. Dark hair, I think.”
“Young we can do.” Reese split the stack up and handed some to Diesel. “Pull out everyone under thirty.”
“You can leave Wilkes in,” Troy said. “Remember he ran that marathon last year?”
“Good. Good information.” Reese handed Troy some of the folders. “What else do you know?”
They came up with two other names of guys who were over thirty but could definitely keep up with the kids. When they were done the stack of folders was cut in half then whittled down to eight names.
“He was white,” Diesel said. “I think.”
That got the stack down to six.
“It’s not Alex. He’s a blond.” That came from Troy, but Jack would have said it first if he’d realized Alex Tate was still in the stack. “Plus, we’re getting married next month,” he explained when Reese sent him a questioning look. “I’d notice if he’d turned into some dumbass with a knack for fucking up equipment.”
Five names left.
Diesel and Reese had winnowed the list down as far as they could, but investigation by committee could only get them so far.
Now, they needed to hand their short list over to the cops.
Or, Jack could think.
This was his house and someone had attacked it from the inside. Who had something against the other men? Something against him? Every act was an annoyance to the men it was perpetrated against, but Jack had made it even worse by punishing them afterward for mistakes they hadn’t made. It had undermined his authority.
He shuffled the folders around until he found one name that made sense. “Theo Wilkes. He wanted to be lieutenant when the opening came up. I promoted Barnes instead.” He shoved the envelope across the table. “He’s a decent firefighter, good history in the department, puts too much heat in his chili, but I didn’t think he’d be good at maintaining discipline. I told him to reapply next time.”
Reese flipped the folder open. He read the first few pages before sighing. “It’s a good theory, but I’m not calling the cops on someone in the department until I know for sure.” He nodded at Troy. “Is Wilkes here today?”
“I can go get him.”
“Just don’t let him run,” Diesel said. “He’s fast.”
“We’ll all go,” Jack said. He wasn’t about to let Theo get away a second time, and the more he thought about it the more certain he became that it was Theo. No one else in the crew had the right motivation to be a pain in his ass.
Forget the police. He wanted to know exactly what was going on. He stood up and charged out the door. His feet pounded against the staircase. The three other men were charging down behind him. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Reese warned, but it was already too late.
Jack’s arm was in a cast.
His fire truck was busted.
People could have died because Theo’s damn feelings were hurt.
It was completely unacceptable, and as soon as he saw Theo leaning against the back wall of the firehouse he knew he’d been right. Theo’s face went white. He held up both his hands. “Easy, Captain. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Easy?” Jack shouted, loud enough that a dozen heads turned in his direction. He didn’t care. Let them watch. “Easy? You messed with your coworkers’ equipment. You screwed up their—”
“And you didn’t listen when everybody told you that it wasn’t their fault. You never listen. You’re too busy bringing in newcomers—like Barnes—who don’t know what they’re doing.” Theo stuck his chin out. His lips twisted into an ugly sneer. “I called down to a friend of mine in Atlantic City. He said your new pet’s a nasty piece of work.”
“Diesel’s a good guy,” Tito said.
“You’re not a very good liar.” Theo raised his voice. “You all heard about Chase Phillips, right? That asshole developer over in New Jersey who set his own building on fire? Turns out our captain’s new golden child was his damn accomplice.”
The crowd was making noise now. Men calling out loudly and muttering under their breaths. They were all talking at once and Jack couldn’t hear any of them. He didn’t care. He was too busy looking at that smug look on Theo’s face. Like anybody cared. Like he’d won.
“Phillips was my boyfriend,” Diesel said. “I didn’t know what he was doing. I definitely didn’t help him start a fire.”
“Right, because no one ever heard of a firefighter turning to arson to solve his problems,” Theo spat.
Jack couldn’t listen to it anymore. His good hand balled into a fist. He pivoted on his heels and swung, hard. The cast on his right hand was heavy. It threw his balance off. He didn’t connect with Theo’s jaw, but his hand landed hard on his nose.
Crunch. Cartilage and bone shattered under his fist. Blood streamed fast and hot over his fingertips.
Theo slumped backward against the wall. His head hung low. When he finally looked up, his eyes were full of confusion. “You’re taking his side?”
“He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.” Jack made sure everyone could hear. “A better man and a better firefighter.” He turned to walk away, dropping his hand to the side to shake out the cramped pain in his knuckles. “Somebody call the cops.” Troy and Tito were only half a step away. “Make sure he doesn’t get away.”
“Don’t worry,” Troy said. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Tito was a little less immediate with his response. “That stuff he said about Diesel, you know it’s not true.”
“I know.” And then Jack was walking past him, stretching out his legs to reach Diesel where he was still standing by the stairs. Their relationship wasn’t casual. Jack wasn’t about to let him run away. He didn’t want just a few dates or a few years. He wanted forever and ever until the end of time, and if that meant he was going to lose his job—or the respect of his men—then so be it.
Halfway to the stairs, some of the emotion he was feeling must have shown on his face because Diesel turned and ran.
For the second time in as many days Jack felt like he was falling, but this time there was no ground to catch him.
* * *
Diesel couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Panic ripped through him, but this wasn’t the normal bout of nerves he got when too many people were talking at once. This was the absolute terror of knowing that an entire fire crew knew his deepest, darkest secret.
For a moment everything had been okay. Everyone was so focused on Jack taking down Theo that they hadn’t noticed Diesel quietly coming apart in the corner. Then Jack had turned in his direction and the look on his face was absolutely breathtaking. It was warm and caring, everything Diesel had ever wanted to see and everything he couldn’t accept.
His body still carried the scars from the last time his coworkers had turned on him. He wasn’t about to let himself be put in that position again, and if anything happened to Jack?
No.
Nothing was going to happen to Jack.
Diesel wouldn’t let it, even if that meant running away from the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He made it half a block when his cell phone started buzzing in the pocket of his borrowed pants. He let it go to voicemail but it started buzzing again almost immediately. The process repeated itself three more times before he finally answered. “I need to take a few days’ medical leave.”
“Do you have to go back to the hospital?” Jack’s voice was full of concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” But if he saw Jack too soon, his resolve might crumble. He forced himself to take a deep breath. How many blocks had he made it? Six? More? He’d gotten halfway to Grand Central Station. He could catch the train there and go home. His keys—fuck, he didn’t know where his keys were. He must have lost track of them sometime during the past two days of excitement. Too bad. There had to be some benefit to having too many roommates to keep track of.
“I can come by. We can recover together.”
“No.” Diesel was certain on this point. He’d already spent too much time with Jack. If he saw him again, he’d never be able to leave. “Thank Eric for the breakfast, but I don’t think I’ll be back. Like I said earlier, it was only supposed to be casual between us.” If that was the case, why did his chest feel like it was suddenly caving in? “It’ll probably be better if we don’t talk for a while.”
He ended the call with a thrust of his finger.
Then he turned his phone off and dropped it back into his pocket.
Everything would be all right. He could leave. He could start over. His breath twisted. A sharp sob escaped his throat. He wanted to go home, back to that morning snuggled up under the comforter in Jack’s tiny bungalow when anything seemed possible, when he’d felt like part of a family. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and headed for the subway.
His rented room might not be home, but it was the only place he had.