America's Bravest (26 page)

From behind her, Ryan startled when images of
him and Felicia came on screen. They were on the roof at Hale’s
Haven, Felicia was flat out on her stomach grasping onto Rachel
arms. “Ouch,” she said aloud.

“Yeah, ouch. But look at those muscles.” Ryan
touched her shoulder and squeezed. “You go girl.”

Then the camera zeroed in on Ryan holding
onto her.

“Uh-oh. I didn’t realize my hands strayed
into private territory.” They were grasping her bare thighs. “Did I
bruise you? I’m hanging on tight.”

The thought that the marks on the inside of
her thighs were from O’Malley’s fingers dismayed her. She hadn’t
realized that. “No big deal.”

A voice over came on. “This is the good and
although I’ve taken on excess spending and the free time of
firefighters, here’s one of them managing a feat of undiluted
courage. Hats off to Lieutenant Felicia White for her actions to
save sister firefighter, Rachel Wellington. That’s the good in this
story.”

“What next?” Felicia asked.

“Notice the hottie holding onto her. He’s one
of America’s Finest.” The shot cut out to, what the hell?—her and
Ryan at the arson scene. “These two work together. Which is still
okay.”

Another clip. This one from the inside of
Mitch and Megan’s house at the camp. “But here they are later in,
let’s say, a tender moment.”

The screen showed Felicia, bruised and
battered—and drugged—lying on the couch, with Ryan seated next to
her. She took his hand and held it to her chest. She spoke and he
gazed down at her enrapt. Then he brushed her hair back in a very
sweet gesture. The narration continued. “Is this taking camaraderie
to an extreme? It also begs the question, what happens in those
firehouses?”

“Fucking shit!” Felicia was infuriated.

“Yeah, fucking shit.” He shook his head. “You
know what? I’ve had it with that woman. I stopped myself from doing
something out of respect for free speech but I’m sick of how she’s
slanting things.”

Felicia looked up at him. His blue eyes
sparked like flames: hot and angry. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to investigate her.”

“Ryan, we already did a Google search on the
woman. We have the normal stuff: where she’s from, her schooling,
an engagement announcement, some early jobs. There were a lot of
missing pieces.”

“Yeah, well I bet I can find more on her.
There has to be a reason for her vendetta.” He crossed his arms
over his chest. “How hungry are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can do it tonight. From here.”

“Do what?”

“Access police data bases. See what it turns
up.”

Felicia knew her face lit up. “I’m all
in.”

He grinned. “Though it’s a shame to waist
that beautiful dress.”

“Hell, we’ll spend the gift certificates
another time. I’ll order pizza, cancel our reservations and get out
some beer.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

And for a second, Felicia thought maybe she’d
like to be. Especially since he was willing to give up a fancy
dinner to get information so they could figure out why Parker Allen
had a mafia-like grudge against fire and police workers. The
situation had become very important to her.

And apparently to him, which, unfortunately,
made him even more attractive.

oOo

Ryan started with a search for Parker Allen
in the police data bases. Vaguely, he was aware of Felicia behind
him. As he waited for the data to come through, he stared at the
screen but thought about the woman he was with. The way she looked
in that dress made him hard as soon as he saw her. And that
probably wasn’t good, though she did admit this afternoon that she
liked him a little.

After ten minutes, he got the results of his
search. “I thought so.”

From the kitchen island, Felicia asked, “What
is it?”

“This shows no illegal activities,”

“Damn. Where do we go from here?”

“To check relatives for criminal
activities.”

“There have to be tons of Allens in the
criminal system.”

“Uh-huh, but we’ll go to her home town first
and find out her parents’ or siblings’ names.”

“Or we can do a genealogy chart.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea.”

“It’ll take a while to process.”

He stood then and faced her. “Aw, shucks, the
dress is gone.” Instead, she wore lightweight gray sweats which
outlined her curves.

“Another time.” She nodded to his outfit. “I
wish you could get more comfortable.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to flirt, to
suggest he’d be more comfortable in bed with her in the interim but
he checked himself. He was enjoying her company and didn’t want to
ruin their time together. Instead, he took off his suit coat and
rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt. He noticed she was
staring at his bare forearms. Well, that was good. “There, I’m more
comfortable.”

Her eyes raised to his. He caught the flicker
of female interest in them, how she swallowed hard. Ryan was
mesmerized by the expression on her face.

The doorbell rang. Hell of a time for the
pizza to arrive. While she did the genealogy chart, he got the pie
and put it and beer on the coffee table. He sat on one of the wide,
stuffed couches and finally she joined him.

“All done. Now we wait.”

“Speaking of genealogy, tell me about your
family,” he said when they both dug in. “You know all about
mine.”

“Not much to tell. My parents came from a
typical middle class background in Binghamton. My father worked in
a factory, my mother was a nurse. My brother’s older.”

“You mentioned him before. What does he
do?”

“He’s a smoke jumper in Colorado.”

Ryan whistled. “Pretty dangerous job. What
did your parents think of you two going into risky
professions?”

She scrunched her nose. Even that expression
was cute on her. “Stereotypical reaction. It was okay for Garth but
not me. Honestly, I can’t believe people think that way.”

“How’d you get so liberated then?”

“I had a great English teacher. She started
this elective called Women in Society. She changed my thinking,
though unconsciously I always believed I was capable of doing what
a man could. Still, I did what my parents asked. I went to college
and took every gender studies class I could. As soon as I
graduated, I took the firefighter test and got a job here in Hidden
Cove.” She seemed sad. “My parents died when I was a junior in
college, so they never had to see me become a firefighter.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t more supported. My
parents are unbelievable, I guess.”

“Yeah, Ryan, they are.”

“Did your brother back you?”

“Uh-huh.” She bit into another slice and took
a big slug of beer. “He came to my probationary class graduation,
and after that we talked several times a month. We grew apart when
he got married. He’s divorced now.” She frowned.

“What?”

“I don’t think too much about how close we
were. It kind of makes me sad now.” She watched him. “Especially
having contact with your tight knit family.”

“It isn’t too late to get in touch with
him.”

The computer pinged again and they both stood
quickly, both started out together and bumped into each other. He
grasped onto her arms and stared at her face. She was at least a
head shorter than he, but solid and firm. And supple. She wore a
bit of makeup that enhanced her features, especially with her hair
down and fluffy. He longed to touch it…and more. How had he once
thought this woman was plain?

She bit her lip and the gesture made his gut
clench.

“Licia, I--”

At first, she froze, then she stepped back.
“We need to check the computer.”

It was awkward, but he let the moment go,
allowed her to precede him and sit in front of the screen. He
pulled over a dining room chair and hovered next to her so their
shoulders were almost touching. He didn’t think he’d ever been more
aware of a woman. “Here’s her family tree. I’ll start right before
with her grandparents.” She clicked on the leaves. Maternal
grandparent information showed both Sara and Thomas Allen came from
wealth. A lot of it. Then onto parents. Mother, Patrice Allen, was
a housewife and active in charity work. She clicked onto the green
leaf of the father. And came up as Nigel Larson, a birth date and
not much else.

“She doesn’t have his last name,” Felicia
noted. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. But with his full name and
date of birth we can find out.”

When Felicia switched places with him, their
bodies brushed. He noticed her small intake of breath and wanted to
touch her badly. Instead, he sat while she retrieved their beers.
Ryan typed in information. They waited ten minutes, making small
talk about Allen, and eventually a data base came up. “Holy cow, it
says he’s at Menard Penitentiary in Illinois.”

“Can you get more information?”

“Sure.” He called up yet another data base.
“I got a good feeling about this.”

“Me, too. Thanks for helping me find out
about her, Rye. I really appreciate it.”

He clicked keys, then when it was time to
wait, he placed his hand over hers. Squeezed it. “My pleasure. I
want to stop her, too.” Awkward now, as she looked away. But she
didn’t remove her hand.

Another ping.

Ryan and she skimmed the screen together.
Nigel Anthony Larson had been imprisoned for the crime of setting
an incendiary fire on a huge complex of warehouses he owned.
Several people were killed. He was convicted on the belief that the
business was floundering and he’d make millions in insurance.
Despite the fact of his wife’s wealth, the motive was considered
valid, along with physical evidence: footprints at the scene, DNA
on the window, and witnesses who testified to his suspicious
behavior.

“Christ.” They read on. “Oh, man,” Ryan said.
“Look at that.”

“Damn.” The man was cleared ten years later
when another arsonist confessed. But the damage to the family’s
lives had been done.

Felicia frowned. “I wonder why this wasn’t in
local papers.”

“It probably was but because the last name
was different and nobody who searched connected the two. Besides,
Chicago is a big city.” Ryan sat back, folded his arms over his
chest and stared at the screen. “This is a hell of a thing.” He
gave a soft
huh.
“It almost makes me feel sorry for
her.”

“Almost. She’s done a lot of damage to both
our departments, Rye.”

He grinned over at her. “I like when you call
me that.”

She shook her head. “Anyway, we should get
this to Noah and Will Rossettie.”

“I agree. When?”

“ASAP.”

Now that their tasks were done, they both
stood. “Want more pizza?” she asked.

The last thing he wanted was food. He watched
her for a minute. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashing with
the pleasure of success. How to proceed? He didn’t want to scare
her off but he couldn’t walk away. So he stepped closer.

She surprised him in not stepping back. She
did put a hand on his chest and his heart leapt at that simple
touch. “What are you doing?” Her tone wasn’t belligerent or angry.
Curious, maybe. And her eyes held…interest.

“What I’ve wanted to do all night.” He
grasped her biceps gently. Rubbed her arms up and down. “For a
while now.”

Hazel eyes narrowed. “This is not a good
idea, Ryan.”

“I think it is.” He tipped her chin. “Come
on, one kiss.”

She stared at his mouth.

He took that as agreement. Slowly he lowered
his head. Her sexy scent filled his head. The zing he felt as soon
as his lips touched hers was strong. And unusual for him. Must be
for her, too, because she leaned into the kiss, slid her hand
around his neck and exerted pressure of her own. His arms banded
around her then and drew her close. She melded into him. Fireballs
of desire shot through him as he deepened the kiss. Lifted her up a
bit. Her hands clamped at his neck, and he opened her mouth with
his tongue. Her whimper broke the last of his restraint. He
devoured, consumed, took. So did she.

Soon it wasn’t enough.

He dragged his mouth away. “Where’s the
bedroom?”

She looked as dazed as he felt. She blinked a
couple of times and then seemed…skeptical.

He threaded his hands through her hair and
kept her in place. “Licia, please.”

It was an interminable wait, but finally she
said, “Down the hall to the left.”

oOo

She tried, she really did, not to rip his
clothes off, they were so nice. But still she popped a few buttons
and tore at his belt after he’d stripped her bare in her
bedroom.

“Hurry,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“I am. Oh, hell! I can’t get the snap.”

He pushed her back, barked, “Let me,” and got
himself naked in seconds.

“I can’t wait.”

“Me, neither.” He started for the bed.

“No, here.”

“Honey, we need protection.”

She swore like a sailor, grabbed his hand and
dragged him to the bed, pushed him down. He chuckled as she
rummaged for condoms in her dresser drawer, tossed those on the
bed, too, took one and sheathed him.

Then she was on her back. “My turn. Again, he
dug his hands through her hair and ravaged her mouth. She squirmed,
shifted, tried to get him to come inside her but he wouldn’t be
deterred. He left her lips and attacked her breast next. She bucked
off the mattress, afraid she was going to come just from that
action. “Please, Rye, now. I can’t wait.”

With one last suckle, he leaned back, took
her legs and draped them over his shoulders and plunged into her.
She spiraled out of control.

Afterward, she was sweaty, sore
and…embarrassed. She’d seen stars, heard music, felt the earth
move, every single cliché ever invented. And now, she loved the
weight of him on her, the scent of musk surrounding her.