Spark & Blaze (A Guns & Hoses Novel) (4 page)

“He was getting out of his gear in the bay when I came in,” Wallace answered and the captain frowned.

They had been back from the call for a good twenty-five minutes and it didn’t take that long to get out of bunker gear.

“I’ll check the bay.” Flame stood with a groan.

“Take him some water, Malone.” Captain Stevenson nodded to the bottle in Brett’s hand. “He’s gonna need it.”

It was habit for all of them to rehydrate after a fire since they sweat buckets in their heavy gear. Of course, it was a habit they all learned.

Son of a bitch,
Brett cursed himself and grabbed two more bottles of water from the fridge. For all they knew, their new rookie could be down for the count out in the bay due to dehydration.

Brett followed Flame out into the bay. The hook with the rookie’s name where his gear was kept wasn’t on the station door side. It was around the rig since that was the side of the truck the rookie seat was on in the rig. Technically, Brett should have been on the same side since he sat across from Carmichael, but when DeVille retired last year, Brett took his hook.

Flame and Brett both froze, stopped dead in their tracks, when they rounded the front of the rig. Carmichael stood staring at the space in front of him. His helmet was dangling from the strap in a white knuckled fisted grip. They could tell the rookie’s turnout coat was unbuckled by the way the heavy insulated jacket laid against his hips.

Carmichael’s sandy blond hair was sweat plastered against his skull making it appear almost light brown. Several rivulets of sweat still ran down his flushed temple and neck only to be absorbed into the high collar of the jacket.

“Shit,” Flame cursed and went to take a step forward.

Brett stopped Flame from approaching Carmichael. He had seen the zombie look before when he was in Afghanistan.

“Shell shock,” Brett said in a whisper and Flame’s head whipped around.

Brett knew Flame served in the Corps, but didn’t know to what extent. He didn’t take his eyes off Carmichael, but from the corner of his eye he saw Flame look back at the rookie then nod. Brett was relieved that Flame knew what the hell he was talking about and wasn’t going to try and rush to the rookie’s side again.

“Go let the captain know,” Brett told Flame quietly. “I’ve dealt with this before, but he doesn’t need an audience.”

“All right. I’ll get the cap in his office and let him know. After that I’ll chill on the other side of the rig in case you need me.”

“Sounds good.”

“Need me to bring anything back with me?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Okay.”

Brett waited until he heard the bay door close before he quietly took a step closer to Carmichael. Without taking his eyes off the younger man, he leaned to the side and carefully set the water bottles down on the bench. He took two more steps closer, but still left a few feet between them.

This situation could play out one of two ways. Carmichael could get violent, which Brett really hope didn’t happen because the rookie could end up hurt while he was being restrained, or he could break down and cry like a baby. Either result was sure to embarrass the hell out of Carmichael. However, there wasn’t a damn thing Brett could do about that because he sure as hell couldn’t leave the rookie like he was right now.

“Carmichael,” Brett said softly and wasn’t in the least bit surprised when the rookie didn’t even acknowledge his presence. “You’re here at the station. Station twenty-two.”
Still no reaction, dammit
. “Carmichael.” Nothing. Not even if flicker on the guy’s face to indicate that the rookie heard him.

Brett took another step closer, but knew reaching out to touch the guy was abso-fucking-lutely the worst possible thing he could do.

“Carmichael… Evan. C’mon man.”

Brett spoke in a calm even tone that was only slightly louder than the quiet voice he had started out with. Vaguely, Brett heard the station door click closed, but he ignored Flame returning to the bay. He trusted the guy would stay on the other side of the rig.

“It’s Malone, rookie. You’re at the station.”

He paused and for once he wished he had spent more time with the newbie because he didn’t have a clue what else he could say to help the guy escape the prison his mind had slammed around him.

“Hey, Evan, you owe me an apology, man,” Brett began and thought he saw the rookie’s eyebrow twitch. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that shit.” Brett’s tone didn’t match his words, but he was encouraged by the slight reaction that he swore he saw on Carmichael’s face.

“So are you going to give me a real apology or keep being an asshole?”

Carmichael’s head turned to look at him so slowly that the only thing missing to make standing a few feet away from the rookie a horror flick, was the creepy music that told every moviegoer that something seriously fucked up was about to happen.

At least it’s a reaction, even if he does currently have the vacant expression of a serial killer
.

“Evan, it’s Brett.”

Brett waited and watched Carmichael’s pale gray eyes blink a few times and a frown begin to form between his brows.

“You’re at the station,” Brett repeated and the rookie blinked a few more times. “It’s Malone. You’re okay here. We’re…”

Brett almost said they were back from the scene, but didn’t want to risk losing ground by reminding the guy of all the shit he had already seen on this shift.

“Malone?”

Carmichael’s voice was quietly rough and scratchy as if he had just woken up. His tone was confused and unsure. The combination had Brett stepping closer even though he knew it was the worst thing he could possibly do while the rookie was still somewhat out of it.

“It’s okay, Evan.” Brett stepped within an arm’s reach of the rookie and used Carmichael’s first name since that seemed to be what helped get through to the guy.

“Malone,” Carmichael repeated his name and closed the space between them.

“You’re okay,” Brett repeated again and forced himself not to pull the guy into his arms.

The desire to hold the rookie wasn’t sexual even though Brett could admit he found Carmichael attractive. No, it was just the urge to offer comfort to someone who was suffering through trauma.

“Oh God!” Carmichael’s voice sounded horrified, but his action definitely was not.

The rookie launched himself at Brett and before Brett’s mind even had the chance to consider Carmichael was becoming violent, Evan’s arms wrapped around his waist and his mouth slammed against Brett’s lips. Brett reacted instinctively. His hands latched onto Carmichael’s biceps, his body absorbed the impact of the rookie’s body, and his mouth opened to the kiss.

The moan that escaped Carmichael’s throat into Brett’s mouth and vibrated the rookie’s chest against his, snapped Brett out of his sudden haze of lust. However, before Brett could stop the totally inappropriate situation he now found himself in, the tones of another emergency call blared overhead. The tones did what Brett should have already done. They cause Carmichael to step back quickly. The look on the rookie’s face was a combination of stunned shock, fear, confusion, and embarrassment.

“Oh God,” Carmichael groaned out before he turned on his heel and ran for the open bay doors.

Brett started to follow when the rookie disappeared around the corner, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“I’ll go,” Flame said and by the look in his co-worker’s eyes, the guy had witnessed the PTSD related lip action that just went down. “Gear up.”

Flame gave him a nudge back toward the front of the rig. Flame’s expression was neutral in the face of Brett’s that was... What? He had no idea what his expression was because he had no idea what he felt or how he felt about what had just occurred between him and Carmichael.

Brett just gave Flame a nod and turned to jog around the truck. He didn’t remember dressing out for their latest call. In fact he had no idea what type of emergency they were even responding to. He didn’t have a clue because the effort to tune in wasn’t enough to override the last sight he had of Carmichael as they left the station. The sight of the rookie’s bunker geared body on the ground, bent over, and puking his guts out was the only thing that set up house in Brett’s frontal lobe.

Brett returned to the station with the rest of his co-workers. If the call hadn’t been a gas leak, which was rare in Florida, and they didn’t have to stay on scene until someone from the gas company arrived, they all would’ve been back to the station much sooner.

It was barely after 10 p.m. and the station was quiet when they returned. Flame and Carmichael were not in the rec room and Brett didn’t even realize he was tense about running into the rookie until the relief that the room was empty hit him.

Shower, bed, sleep
, Brett thought.
In that order
.

The plan followed course until Brett’s head hit the thin station pillow. He was exhausted, utterly exhausted. However, sleep didn’t pull him down. Instead, the memory of Carmichael’s lips did.

Chapter Four

Eva
n
woke before anyone else and almost wished that wasn’t the case. He felt like shit even after he stood under the hot spray of the shower for almost twenty minutes. After dressing quietly and quickly, he hurried downstairs to start coffee. He prayed he’d get at least one cup in him before he had to face the guys on his shift.

All of the words Flame offered up didn’t mean or do shit to lessen his embarrassment. Why he freaked out and fucking threw up his guts he didn’t know. What he did know was that it sure as hell didn’t help his reputation with the guys.

First, he questioned a senior firefighter and then ran to the captain as if a bully broke his toy. Then he lost his shit and puked his fucking brains out, just because they had three rough calls in a row. To top it off, he attacked Malone’s mouth as if his co-worker was some big titty blonde.

“Fuck,” Evan whispered while he added creamer to his coffee. “I’m not a fucking pansy ass. I can do this job,” Evan muttered just as quietly into his mug before he took a sip.

“You’re not and yes you can.”

Captain Stevenson’s voice behind him made Evan jump. Thankfully, he was already lowering his mug of morning pick me up away from his lips or he would have spit the hot shit all down the front of his chest. As it was, the coffee still sloshed over the rim and the fallen caramel colored drops landed on his blue polyester work pants and the floor.

“Shit,” Evan cursed and willed his startled heart to return to a normal beat.

“Look, son,” Stevenson began while he pulled a mug from the cabinet. “This shift has been brutal.” Stevenson poured his coffee and turned to face Evan. “The shit you saw yesterday? Most guys don’t see that much trauma back to back over the course of a few shifts, let alone all in one.”

Yeah and none of the guys fell into a stupor before they sexually assaulted a co-worker then puked all over the shrubs out front
. Evan couldn’t help but think and only stared at his captain by way of reply.

“Carmichael, all I’m saying is if you want to take the next shift off, no one would blame you.”

Evan knew his body tensed and he frowned at his captain. Hard. He may have lost his shit yesterday after seeing the dead bodies in the crumpled vehicles, the chick who sliced her wrists in front of them, and the kids who were almost burned beyond recognition but still breathed. However, that didn’t mean he needed to take any time off.

“You offering the same to everyone or is it just me because I’m a rookie and lost my shit?” Evan was angry and didn’t hide the fact in his tone

“Actually,” Stevenson took a sip of his coffee. “No, because if any of the others need a shift off to regroup, they will ask for it.”

Great. Just fucking great.
Evan mentally cursed because it was obvious his captain didn’t think he would know if he needed to ask for time off.

Evan forced himself to finish his coffee, rinse his mug, and put it in the dishwasher before he answered Stevenson.

“I’ve got two days off, just like the rest of the guys,” Evan made a point to say. “I’ll be fine and be here for the next shift.”

Evan didn’t wait for Stevenson to reply before he crossed to the stairs that led up to where they all slept while on shift. He was halfway up the stairs when he ran into Flame coming down. Evan braced himself for the awkwardness of being handled with kid gloves.

“Morning.” Flame grinned and waited for a reply. When he didn’t get one, he chuckled. “Okay, you’re not a morning person.”

Evan returned Flame’s grin as relief that Flame wasn’t going to treat him any differently flooded through him.

“No, I’m not. The only way I enjoy mornings is if I haven’t been to bed yet.”

Flame laughed. “That happen often?”

“Only when I’ve been out all night dancing. So no, not very often.” Silence settled between them briefly while they stood halfway up the stairs. “Well I’m gonna...” Evan started, but Flame spoke at the same time.

“You should join us at Guns & Hoses and hang out.”

Evan was surprised at the invitation, but that surprise and the warm feeling it brought from being included quickly shifted to being pitied because of the episode he had yesterday.

“Yeah, sure,” Evan replied sarcastically and his tone conveyed his pissed off-ness loud and clear.

“Hey Carmichael,” Flame called out when Evan stomped up the stairs away from his co-worker.

Evan ignored him. The bunk area of the station was alive with activity, but Evan saw none of his firefighter co-workers while they got their shit together to clear out before the next shift arrived. He stuffed his spare uniform, his TFD jumper that he had yet to wear, and his toiletry bag into his duffel. He was just lifting the thing off his bunk when a hand grasped his bicep. Evan’s head turned and his pale gray eyes shot daggers at Brostowski.

“Flame doesn’t offer shit out of pity,” Brostowski’s voice was low and sounded dangerous. “You don’t want to hang with us, that’s fine. Just say no, like Malone does, but don’t be an asshole. Especially to Flame when he put you over a call and the rest of us who covered your ass. You get me?”

Brostowski squeezed his bicep to make his point and Evan knew he had fucked up. Again.

“Yeah I...,” Evan started, but Brostowski cut him off.

“I don’t care.” Brostowski’s tone wasn’t as harsh. “We’ve all had a hell of a shift. We usually don’t get slammed with intense shit back to back, but shit happens. We deal with it because it’s what we do for the job we love.”

Brostowski paused and Evan detected a kindness in the man behind the anger he currently saw in his co-worker’s eyes.

“We’ll be at Guns & Hoses tonight around seven for booze, pool, and darts. If you want to come out and hang, then come hang. If you don’t, then don’t”

The grip on his arm disappeared and Evan watched Brostowski walk down the stairs. He didn’t know what to make of the invitation when he turned back to pick up his duffel.

Thoughts of Flame, then Brostowski’s invitation to hang out at Guns & Hoses evaporated from his mind when he shouldered his bag and met Malone’s eyes when he turned back toward the stairs.

Malone had his own bag slung over his shoulder and his gaze was settled firmly on Evan. The guy’s expression was neutral, just like it had been at the beginning of the shift when he came out of the shower area and Evan had intended to apologize.

An apology was the furthest thing from Evan’s mind when he was slammed with the memories of severely attacking the man in the truck bay. He had no idea why he had molested Malone. Why he had felt the need to taste the man by kissing the ever living fuck out of him. The why was something he would put under a microscope later because now was definitely not the time.

Malone didn’t look pissed that he had laid a lip lock on him, but Evan wasn’t sure if apologizing for his temporary lack of sanity was the right thing to do or not. If the guy wanted to forget that kiss ever happened, then Evan was on board with that. Still, he owed Malone an apology for running to Stevenson after the Shadows’ fire.

“Sorry I ran to Stevenson over our disagreement in Shadows,” Evan said quickly before looking away from Malone’s deep chocolate eyes and heading toward the stairs.

Malone didn’t say anything and Evan really hadn’t expected him to comment. However, before he stepped onto the stairs that would get him out of the building and put an end to a hellacious shift, Evan had to address the elephant that was his breakdown. Not only his breakdown, but his sexual assault.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, too,” Evan knew that he didn’t have to clarify what about the day before he was talking about. “I’ll understand if you want to press charges.”

Evan cringed as the words left his lips. Malone had every right to press assault charges against him. His behavior was a result of dealing with traumatic shit, but that didn’t excuse the fact that he had molested the guy.

Hell, if he was in Malone’s shoes and some guy threw a lip lock that included some tonsil hockey, he would probably press charges regardless of the situation.

Silence surrounded them and after a moment, Evan knew Malone wasn’t going to reply so he headed down the stairs. He was halfway down when he thought he heard Malone say ‘shit.’

Brett had watched the rookie come up the stairs and gather his things. Carmichael looked pissed off and Brett had no idea what could have sparked the guy’s anger so damn early in the morning.

Flame was the only person who had already gone below, but he was so laid-back that Brett doubted his co-worker could’ve said anything to put that expression on the rookie’s face.

However, the moment Brostowski stepped up to the rookie and grabbed Carmichael’s arm, Brett knew Flame was involved somehow. Brostowski and Flame were tighter than tight and by the look on Brostowski’s face while he talked quietly to Carmichael, the rookie did something to Flame that pissed Brostowski off.

Whatever had happened between Carmichael and Flame that now involved Brostowski, wasn’t his business. Hell, anything surrounding the rookie wasn’t his business unless it was work related. After Brostowski walked off, Brett watched Carmichael follow.

Brett was surprised when the rookie stopped before going downstairs and apologized for the shit at Shadows. His surprise shifted to pure fucking shock when Carmichael mentioned him pressing charges. He was utterly fucking speechless that Carmichael thought he would press sexual assault charges over the kiss that happen down in the bay.

Hell, even if he wasn’t gay, even if he didn’t find Evan Carmichael attractive, no one in their right mind would press charges on someone who acted out of desperation to feel human contact. Desperation to feel something... To feel alive.

Brett didn’t have a chance to reassure Carmichael that he understood why what happened did or that he wasn’t going to be filing a complaint with the Tampa Police Department. The guy disappeared down the stairs before Brett’s mind reengaged enough to form the words.

“Shit,” Brett cursed and took his ass downstairs.

Shift was in full swing when he hit the rec room. Some of the guys on his shift were grabbing coffee at the same time the morning shift guys were refilling their travel mugs that they had brought with them from home to get a jump on their caffeine fix on the drive into the station.

Brett didn’t want any coffee. All he wanted was to go home and forget about the last twenty-four hours that took the prize for his most hellacious shift ever. He said his hellos and goodbyes to his co-workers and felt like he couldn’t escape the confines of the firehouse fast enough. Brett had just opened the door to his Camaro and was climbing in when Flame called out to him.

“Guns & Hoses tonight at seven if you want to hang.” Flame and Brostowski walked behind Brett’s Camaro before they opened the doors to Flame’s jacked up F150.

“Maybe,” Brett replied because his brain was too fried to give any thought to what he would be doing later tonight.

“Austin is chomping at the bit for a rematch,” Flame said once he was seated behind the wheel of his truck.

“I bet he is.” Brett couldn’t help but smile. “Let your cousin know I’m looking forward to it.”

“Will do.”

Flame slammed his truck door shut and Brett climbed into his Camaro. Playing pool with Austin was enjoyable because the guy challenged his skills. Austin challenging his skills was actually something to look forward to and might keep his mind off Carmichael. Keep his mind off the rookie and the kiss they shared in the bay. The kiss that sent fireworks off in Brett’s brain. The fucking kiss that kept replaying in his mind like a DVD on repeat.