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The only reason I’m still here is because of those looks, that feeling I have that they’re hiding something. All of the numbers check out. Whatever they’re hiding when I’m around, they’ve done a damned good job of covering up in the records. I wonder if everyone’s involved in whatever it is. Ultimately, if they were stealing valuables from properties where there were fires, it would be untraceable. Perhaps they’re aware of insurance scams? That would also mean the fire investigators were involved.
A sudden terrible thought hits me.
Rory might be involved.
I don’t know why the very idea devastates me.
No. I do know why. I know why because he’s right on target about almost intentionally starting fights in order to enjoy what each fight leads to afterward. Actually, he’s not exactly on target because the truth is there’s noalmostfor me. One of our times together I engineered on purpose.
God, I have feelings for this man.
“What do we know?” Brett asks as we pull out of the station.
For a brief second, I think he’s talking to me. The firefighter in the driver’s seat, though, says, “Multi-car pileup off the freeway. A semi fell off the overpass into traffic on 24thStreet.”
“Tell me it wasn’t an oil tanker,” Rory says, and even with the sound of the siren, his voice thrills me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I have to stop thinking of him as a romantic interest. Maybe I even need to keep myself from sleeping with him. God, I don’t know.
What I do know is I need to find out what secret these men are keeping. I also know the answer is probably so well hidden it’ll take a hell of a lot of effort to figure it out. I’ve got to, though. It’s not only my job. It’s a job I do very well, and I damned well better figure it out before any more distraction keeps me from my purpose.
“Natural gas,” the driver replies.
“Jesus,” Brett whispers.
Natural gas is a far worse danger than oil. Oil will burn until the fire is suffocated but natural gas can explode and create a far worse fire far more quickly. The driver speeds out of there and by the look on Rory’s face, I can tell he’s having second thoughts about bringing me.
As we speed along, I get kind of caught up in things. Whatever this group is hiding, there’s no question at all about their competence. I don’t usually get a chance to see the people I’m inspecting in action. I mean, it’s not like an event requiring a first responder is something that I can schedule to coincide with my inspections. I don’t mean to be cynical but as we drive, even as I find myself caught up in the moment and impressed with the men, I remind myself that just because someone is corrupt, their competence isn’t necessarily affected. Yes, these men might be good at what they do. They might save lives. They’re still hiding something and that something might make the good they do seem utterly unimportant.
I let my eye drift toward Rory. He fits in but he also seems to have a more guileless look about him. I can’t help but try to imagine him as free of blame for all that’s going on. It’s foolish. I still try to convince myself of it.
When we arrive at the scene other fire truck companies are already there. I watch in awe as everyone gets to work. Rory takes my arm and brings me to a staging area where poles have been erected around some chairs. Ambulances are backed up to the tent and people are helping the wounded. I watch as Rory joins the fray with the cars and the truck. I see him pull a man from a burning car and again tell myself he’s not involved.
I watch things for almost three hours until Rory steps in front of me. “We’re not point on this, so we’re heading back now that the main work is done.” I nod absently and follow him to the truck. I don’t speak on the way back to the station. I don’t speak when we get there or when Rory comes out of the shower in his street clothes. “I’m off for three days now,” he says.
“Get in your car,” I reply. “I’ll follow you home.”
“Really?”
“Do we have to fight first?”
We don’t have to fight and two steps past his front door, my arms are around him.
This time is different from the others. Before, our sex was characterized by almost frenzied urgency, as though both of us were releasing our anger by fucking each other as aggressively as possible. The goal seemed to be to make the other person cum faster and harder than you did. It was competition more than companionship.
This time, our moves are softer and less aggressive but for all that, they are no less urgent. Our clothes are off before we even leave the doorway and less than a minute after we enter the house, my mouth is on him and I’m sucking desperately, as though to remind myself in the most visceral way possible that he’s still here and still safe.
After another minute or so, he lifts me up. Once again, we waste no time and I straddle him and grind on his cock as he carries me to the couch. He sits down and I ride him, grinding my hips back and forth, side to side, in circles and figure-eights and crosses and any other shape I can think of.
I only want him and though as usual, my orgasms are frequent and powerful, it is once more his climax that drives me and inspires me to continue to grind on him even as my body is wracked with the throes of my own climaxes.
When he finally groans and begins pumping into me, I grab his face and kiss him passionately, not stopping even after his cock stops twitching deep in the core of me, continuing until he carries us to his bed and I fall asleep with my thighs clasping him and my arms gripping him and his cock still filling me and reminding me that the man I’m falling in love with is still alive in my arms.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rory
I can’t pretend it doesn’t feel damned good to wake up with this girl next to me. It’s not the first time, of course, but it’s the first time I feel Tabitha’s body next to mine and I can actually point to a decision the two of us made to spend the night together as opposed to just almost violently attacking each other in the middle of an argument.
She’s beautiful, this girl.
