She shivered. Alexander Gunter was dead, and she’d come damned close to paying the ultimate price for giving up her dreams the first time around the block. For marrying a man wearing the guise of a savior before she discovered the ruthless jackal underneath.
Done and gone. She was so near the realization of her dream, she could taste success. In spite of the crappy start to her day, happiness curled through her belly. May graduation was a mere four months away. By God, she’d done it! A position at Sterling Medical Center, Sugarland’s new hospital, was already hers.
In a few months, once the last of her school bills were paid off and she started drawing a regular check from her new job, she’d start repaying her oldest brother in earnest for his latest “gift.” Her brother’s presents came with too many strings. She hated owing him and he knew it.
All her debts would be history.
Best of all, she’d say so long to exotic dancing for good.
Despite her distaste at using her body to achieve an end, the money was fantastic and immediate, and had served two purposes. One, excavating her life from the nightmare that was her marriage to Alex. Two, proving to her brother that she could take care of herself, despite his being royally pissed at her method.
Brows furrowed, she wondered why on earth she’d deliberately given Zack Knight a skewed impression of herself. Why hadn’t she just told him she was in nursing school? A bit of defiance rearing its ugly head, she supposed. Alex would’ve killed her had he lived to discover how she was paying for her education, if not for defying his edict in the first place.
Yeah, a secret, perverse part of her had wanted to see how Zack would react to news that would have most men panting in anticipation—however incorrect—of an easy screw.
Not this one. The memory of his blue eyes widening in innocence at the disclosure of her
profession
caused a weird ache in the region of her heart. No guy could possibly be so sweet and naive in this day and age.
What a refreshing change.
Rot in hell, Alex.
A crack of lightning and drumroll of thunder made Cori jump, startling her attention back to the road. The sleet drove against the windshield in sheets, lowering visibility to almost nil. Clenching the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip, she made up her mind to pull over at the first opportunity and wait until the weather let up. Maybe park at a fast-food restaurant, sip a cup of coffee to ward off the chill. She’d already missed her class, so what did it matter?
Problem was, there weren’t any good places in sight to stop. The Sugarland Bridge loomed ahead, a ghostly spec ter enshrouded in gray. The morning had grown so dark she could hardly tell where the sky ended and the river burgeoning underneath the bridge began.
Easing off the gas, she suppressed a nervous shudder. Heights scared the shit out of her, always had. Couple that fear with a seventy-year-old bridge the county should’ve replaced years ago, rising water, and a fierce storm, and you had a real bladder buster.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she noticed a pair of headlights approaching from behind. The deluge might be distorting things, but it seemed the lights were approaching far too fast for the treacherous conditions.
Starting over the bridge, she tensed, attention divided between driving carefully and the idiot who was indeed gaining rapidly on her tail. What fool needed to be in such a hurry in terrible weather like this?
The driver was closing the gap between them at an alarming clip, rushing up until the glare from the headlights filled her back end. The jerk didn’t try to pass, but rode her tail no more than a few feet back. Too dangerous and freaky for words. Cori held steady, determined to pull off to the shoulder on the other side and let the car go around her. Just a bit farther and—
A muffled pop sounded a split second before Cori realized her SUV had blown a tire. The vehicle skidded to the right, and, panicking, she jerked the wheel in the opposite direction, overcorrecting.
On a clear day, in dry conditions, she would’ve been able to straighten the vehicle without mishap. But not on what might well be the last day of her life.
Crossing the oncoming lane, she saw the opposite guardrail approach at a terrifying speed. In knee-jerk reaction, she stomped hard on the brake, sending the Explorer into a skid there was no stopping. Too late.
Cori screamed as the SUV rocketed into the guardrail. A deafening explosion of glass and grinding metal drowned out all else. The air bag deployed in her face, saving her from slamming into the steering column or windshield, but the crash jarred every bone in her body. The awful tearing of metal that seemed to go on forever lasted only seconds.
She sat stunned, unable to move, taking stock.
Pain? Not yet. After the shock wore off, most definitely.
Dizzy? Oh, yeah. Her head spun. The vehicle, which seemed to be tilted nose down, rocked like a child’s seesaw. Christ, she must’ve really shaken her brain to be rewarded with that kind of action. At least the glaring headlights were gone.
Frowning, she turned her head to look out her driver’s window, wincing at a stab of pain in her temple.
What do you know?
The jerk hadn’t even stopped. Unlike the rocking.
Oh, no. The motion wasn’t from dizziness.
Hands shaking, she pushed the deflating air bag out of her face and peered out the shattered front windshield. Terror numbed her entire body like a shot of Novocain.
“Oh God, oh shit . . .”
Her Explorer tottered just a few feet above the swollen, angry Cumberland River.
Nothing between her and a watery grave except the hand of God.
2
The captain crossed to the group, his lean-hipped stride reminding Zack of a panther preparing to rip him to shreds.
Eve looked at Zack. “Sorry, bud. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Tanner’s gaze briefly touched hers. “And as I reminded you, you’re not his mother. Let Wonder Boy make his own excuses.” To Zack, he said, “This is the fourth time you’ve been late this month. Start talking.”
Heat crept up Zack’s neck, but he stood his ground. “Does it really make a difference? You’ve known me for four years, Cap. In all that time, those are the only instances I’ve ever been late. I’m sorry; it won’t happen again.”
“Says the slacker who didn’t roll the hoses properly or clean the bathroom last month when his turn rolled around,” the captain fired back.
“That’s not the whole story. I asked Salvatore to—”
“Not to mention taking a week off while Six-Pack was in the hospital recovering from a fucking near-fatal gunshot wound. Your selfishness spread the whole team thin.”
Goddamn. Like he’d had a choice? “Clay covered my shifts—”
“And you failed to clean the quint before going off B-shift on Wednesday, and Clay, covering your ass yet again, washed it and got the fucking mud off by himself.”
Zack stared at Tanner, who took a step closer, getting in his grill. “I left early with the stomach flu—”
“Where’s your part of the grocery money? You still owe from last month, and the others are sick of fronting you. Either pay up or don’t eat.”
Zack wanted to die. Wished hell would open under his feet and finish the job. Did the captain think so little of him to believe he’d take what he hadn’t paid for? Hadn’t the man noticed he’d been brown-bagging it with peanut butter and bologna for weeks, when he ate at all?
He wouldn’t defend himself again. Not under pain of torture.
Eve, bristling with anger, hands fisted on her hips, had no such problem. “Hang on just a damned minute, Tanner! Zack hasn’t—”
“I’ll bring the money tomorrow.” Where he’d get it was another problem, but he’d cough up the cash somehow.
“Right.”
“Are you calling me a
liar
?” Incredulous, Zack gaped at the captain.
“If the shoe fits.”
“Slacker” was bad enough. Of all the things he’d been called, “liar” was the worst. And in front of half the team, no less. This wasn’t the man he’d admired for so long. He stilled, unwilling to show how much the words hurt. “Why don’t we t-take this to your office?”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re almost two hours late, goddammit?” Tanner shouted.
“I had a wr-wreck on the way here, sir. I rear-ended another vehicle, but no one was hurt. S-satisfied?” Damn, he wished he could stop his teeth from chattering. The last thing he wanted was to appear cowed in front of Tanner, but he was so freaking
cold
.
Tanner stared at him a long moment, his gaze frigid. “Nobody was hurt
this time
, so that makes it all right?”
“Sean,” Six-Pack warned.
Ah, shit. He’d unwittingly pushed a major hot button with the captain. How to defuse it?
“No, sir. Just stating the facts. The accident was my fault, but it was minor and the lady and I are both okay.” He spread his hands, attempting to make a lighthearted joke. “I’m here now and ready to get to work, unless you’d like to spank me and send me to time-out.”
The joke backfired. Tanner grabbed a fistful of the front of Zack’s soggy shirt and slammed him backward into the kitchen cabinets. “You worthless little shit. You can look in my face and make light of the fact that you could’ve killed an innocent woman?”
Horrified, Six-Pack leapt forward and hauled the captain backward, forcing himself between his two friends. “Sean, Jesus Christ!”
Zack shook his head, heart in his mouth. “No, I—”
Tanner lunged again, oblivious to Six-Pack holding him back. “What if she had a husband and kids who loved her? She might’ve been dead and that would be on your conscience forever! Your fault!”
Zack’s mouth worked, but his voice deserted him. Six-Pack had no such problem. He yanked the captain off Zack, then pushed the center of Tanner’s chest hard, sending him backward a couple of steps.
“Shut up, dammit! Zack’s accident was nothing like the one that took Blair and the kids. You’re way off the deep end. Calm down and apologize to Knight before I go over your head and report you to the battalion chief, and don’t think for one fucking minute I won’t do it.”
Tanner glared at Six-Pack, panting like a trapped animal. Zack and Eve glanced at each other, stunned. Hard to say which was more shocking—Howard dropping the f-bomb, his having the balls to publicly refer to how Tanner’s family died, or his very real threat to make a report. Because the lieutenant meant every word, no doubt.
Tanner shifted his stare to Zack and held it a long moment, making a visible effort to gain control. The madness faded, but there was no warmth. And certainly no respect.
“I apologize for grabbing you. Anything you screw up outside work is none of my business, unless you get arrested. On the job is a different story. I won’t yield on that point. If you can’t pull your weight around the station, I’ll find an FAO who can.”
Somehow, Zack found his voice. “Y-you’d strip my rank?”
As fire apparatus operator, the man responsible for driving and maintaining the quint, the city’s largest and best-equipped engine, he possessed a hard-earned status second only to that of the captain and lieutenant. Most firefighters would kill for the job he loved. One more blow, the one that might finish him. He’d never survive the pay cut, and besides the Mustang, his job was the sole bright spot left in his existence.
“Don’t give me any more reasons to consider it, and we won’t have a problem,” the captain muttered. “Now that you’ve graced us with your presence, find something useful to do.”
Sean spun on his heel and stalked toward the bay, leaving a vacuum of uncomfortable silence in his wake. Eve stared after him, a rare, undisguised look of wretched worry on her striking face—the look a woman gives a man, not that of a teammate for her captain.
Too bad for her, nursing an attraction to a man with a broken heart.
Can you spell “doomed”?
Not only her but the whole team if she didn’t get a grip. A disaster in the making.
Zack felt ill. Literally. The aches and chills were getting worse by the minute, heat radiating off his face. His body was strangely hot underneath the freezing clothes, too. Great. And he didn’t dare go home sick after the horrible scene with the captain.
He sent his friends a wan smile. “Well, that was fun. Where are Tommy and Julian?”
Six-Pack snorted. “Hiding out in their bunks like the lily-livered cowards they are.” His brown gaze softened in sympathy. “Hey, don’t worry about Sean. You know he didn’t mean any of the stuff he said. He’s not himself. His son’s nineteenth birthday is—or would’ve been—next week. Doesn’t give him the right to rag on you, but I’m just saying.”
“Ah, Jesus.” Zack sighed, hurting for Tanner in spite of the awful things his friend had said. Things he didn’t really mean, because of the terrible pain he lived with every day. It must be agonizing for the captain to see his best friend happily married to his new wife, Kat, and contemplating a family of his own.