Fanning the Flames (Romance Firemen Series) Read online

  Brendan tempted her with extra bacon, fried mushrooms, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. He tossed each orange high in the air before catching it, chopping it in two, and squashing it dramatically in the juicer.

  Cassie was about to tell him he was far too cool for her when one of the oranges went astray and splashed into the sink, drenching Brendan with dishwater and causing them both to dissolve into helpless laughter.

  ******

  “I really wish you’d let me come in with you,” Brendan said as they sat in his truck outside 75 Louisburg Drive

  “I’ll be fine,” said Cassie. “He’s not here. Besides, you’ll be late for your shift. It won’t take me long to go in and find the things I need and I’ve already called the taxi. It’ll be here any minute. We can come back tomorrow for the rest of it when you don't have to work.”

  Cassie was determined not to inconvenience him anymore today. He was already going to be spending the majority of the day tomorrow moving her things.

  Brendan sighed, still not happy with her decision but resigned to letting her make the choice. She tried to lighten the mood.

  “I’ll see you this evening. Can I take over your kitchen? I make amazing chicken parmesan.”

  “You can, but just make sure you get there safely. Call me if there’s anything you need.”

  He kissed her goodbye, a quick, light kiss that wouldn’t tempt either of them into lingering, then waited until Cassie had rung the doorbell and been admitted by Nick’s chauffeur.

  She exchanged polite greetings with Anderson, then went upstairs to look for her purse.

  She remembered leaving it on the back of a chair by the window in the master bedroom. Sure enough, it was still there, with the addition of an envelope pinned to the strap with her name written across it.

  She opened it.

  CASSIE

  I only saw your sweetness when we met

  your eyes alight with hope and innocence

  your passion and your purity shone halo-like

  I thought that you could be the balm

  to heal the acid scars across my soul

  your touch could cleanse my heart if you were mine.

  I showered you with everything I had

  with love shaped into countless dollar signs

  and all my secrets and all of my pain

  and when at last you came to me I saw

  the light go out, the innocence shattering

  and yet by then I loved and could not leave

  all I wanted was to give you all

  I had and even more, and all I asked

  was that you love me, heal me, and be mine

  but no, that was a price you wouldn’t pay

  you snared my heart then ran into the night

  I could not escape though you were gone

  fresh from my arms you fled to someone else

  without a single care for what you’d done

  and killed what little love was left to me

  you gave to me a tiny bud of hope

  then burned it in the inferno of your lust

  as you screwed someone else, my erstwhile love

  She stared in disbelief at the paper in her hand. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she muttered, crumpling the poem into a ball. “Try to be a little less of a sophomore, Nick.”

  “Sophomore?”

  Cassie whirled around. Nick was standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his normally perfect hair mussed and stubble shading his jaw.

  With a mounting sense of dread, she observed he was still wearing the same chinos and casual shirt that he had been wearing the previous day. He clicked the door shut.

  “What’s the matter, Cassie?” he hissed. “Is it not exactly Proust? Tennyson? It was written more for its cathartic affect than for its literary merit. I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your exceptional standards.

  Or perhaps it doesn’t reach down to them, since it seems that your preference is to reject the finer things in favor of something considerably more rough and ready.”

  “What are you doing here, Nick?” Cassie asked, keeping her voice as calm and level as she could. “I thought you weren’t going to be here.”

  “I never said that,” he said. “It’s my house. I can be here if I want to. Besides, you were my guest. I would be a terrible host if I weren't here to say goodbye, wouldn’t I?”

  “I’ve got my purse, I’m leaving. I’ll send someone tomorrow to get the rest.”

  Nick laughed and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. “Care for a smoke?” he asked, holding it out to Cassie. “No? Well, I guess that’s to be expected.”

  He lit one and took a long drag. “A sweet little girl like you. So cute, so modest, doesn’t smoke, hardly drinks. A guy might be allowed to steal a kiss on the first date, but that’s it! Then it’s back to holding hands until you’ve taken her to enough church socials to win her pure and perfect love.”

  He blew a smoke ring. “Or something like that. Except it’s not really true, is it, Cassie?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nick,” Cassie said firmly. “Please get out of the way so I can leave.” She walked forward and reached for the handle, hoping he would back down. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her across the room.

  “You little bitch!” Nick yelled as Cassie stumbled over and landed on the bed. She scrambled to get to her feet, but Nick got in her way.

  She lashed out at him, but he caught hold of her wrists and pinned them down, straddling her to keep her from kicking.

  “Anderson!” Cassie screamed, hoping to get the attention of his chauffeur.

  Nick laughed. “He’s long gone, Cassie. It’s just you and me.”

  “Nick, please…” she whispered, “Please don’t.”

  “Please don’t, Nick!” he said, mimicking her scornfully. “Don’t what, Cassie? Don’t touch you? Don’t rape you? Do you honestly think that I don’t have women by the dozen who are willing, even desperate, to be with me? I hardly need some little small-town schoolteacher who guards her precious honor like some nineteenth-century heroine.

  He tightened his hold on her wrists, “Unless, of course, she gets it into her head to run off with some lowlife so they can spend the night screwing themselves into a frenzy. Oh yes, I saw where you went. Did you think I wasn’t going to follow you? I cared, Cassie! I went after you to make sure you were safe, and what I saw was you climbing into some guy’s car, going into his house, and climbing into his bed.”

  “You spied on us?” Cassie groaned. “You’re sick.”

  “Don’t judge me by your own sordid standards,” Nick said, snarling, pushing his face too close to hers.

  “I saw you last night, making out with him on the couch, letting him carry you upstairs. I saw you in the morning, strutting around in one of his t-shirts. Do you honestly believe that I’d want to lay a hand on you now, you little slut?”

  He smacked her hard across the face, letting go of her wrist just long enough for her to push him off her. She lunged for the door and wrenched at the handle, but it was locked.

  Desperately she pulled her phone out and began to dial 911. Nick grabbed her from behind and snatched the phone.

  “No,” he laughed, “I don’t think so. You won’t be calling anyone to come and screw you in my stead this time.” He hurled her to the floor. Cassie fell heavily, banging her head against the nightstand. She heard Nick unlocking the door as she staggered to her feet and turned, dizzy and confused, to face him.

  “There are too many women like you out there,” Nick hurled over his shoulder as he walked out and slammed the door behind him. Cassie got to it just as the key clicked in the lock.

  “Nick!” she yelled, hammering on the door. “Open the door!”

  Then she saw a wisp of smoke curling under the door. Cassie dropped to her hands and knees, looking through the gap between the door and the floor. The hall carpet was on fire. The flames were small, but as she stared in h
orror, she saw one lit match after another falling onto it.

  “Nick!” she screamed, pounding on the door again. She heard his footsteps disappearing down the stairs, a door opening and closing.

  As the smoke grew thicker, Cassie scoured the room for another way out. The picture windows were locked, so she dragged the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around her for protection before slamming herself against the windows.

  She hoped to smash her way onto the balcony, but the glass was reinforced. It was the equivalent of running into a wall. Dredging up some long-forgotten knowledge about safety glass, she snatched up the stool from the dressing table and tried launching it at the corners of the windows, but again, she failed.

  In desperation, she went back to the door and grabbed at the handle as if she planned to wrench the whole thing off its hinges. The handle felt warm. The door itself must be on fire! She quickly let go. There was another door leading to the bathroom.

  That would give me a little more time, Cassie thought. It’s got to be safer in a bathroom than in a room full of soft furnishings.

  She ran into the bathroom and glanced around the room, hoping to find a window that Nick might have forgotten to lock. There were none, but in the center of the ceiling was a skylight.

  How the hell am I going to get up there? she wondered, staring at the high ceiling. It had seemed like such a symbol of luxury when she first saw it. Now, as the fire spread, the only luxury she cared about was breathable air.

  She ran back into the bedroom. A hole was burned in the door. Cassie could see the burning staircase in the hall. Even if she could kick a bigger hole in the door, there was no way to get through the flames.

  She raced across the room, grabbed a chair, and dragged it into the bathroom. Flinging a towel over her head for protection from falling glass, she hoisted the chair above her head and thrust hard at the skylight.

  She was rewarded with tinkling shards of glass bouncing off the towel and hitting the ground around her. She looked up. She had done some damage, but not enough.

  The roaring sound of the blaze was growing louder as the flames started to consume rugs, drapes, the canopy over the bed.

  Cassie began to choke as the plume of smoke creeping under the bathroom door thickened, snaking its way up the walls and devouring the clean air with terrifying rapidity.

  She lunged upward again, bringing another shower of glass cascading down. She kept going, furiously attacking the skylight until she was too dizzy with smoke inhalation to continue.

  Air, she thought, dropping onto her hands and knees and putting her head near the floor. I can do this. I have to do this. I just need to get catch my breath.

  “Cassie!”

  Her head jerked up. Brendan? She tried to call to him, choking on the words. His voice had come from the direction of the bedroom, so she guessed that he was on the balcony.

  Wrapping the towel around the hot handle, she flung the bathroom door open, hoping to show him where she was, but all she saw was billowing black smoke obscuring everything.

  She slammed the door shut again and redoubled her efforts to smash through the skylight.

  She couldn’t do it. The smoke was winning the battle. She threw the chair down furiously.

  Damn it¸ she screamed internally. I am not going to die like this! A little more breath, then I’ll finish. I’ll climb up on the chair, and I’ll find a way to pull myself out. I will. I have to. I refuse to die here!

  “Cassie!” Brendan’s voice reached her again, this time from directly above. She looked up to see him at the skylight. “Stand back!” he called. “I’m going to smash the rest of the glass.”

  She got out of the way as best as she could and covered her face as Brendan hammered on the remaining glass and dropped down into the bathroom.

  “Come on,” he said hurriedly. “Let’s get you out of here. Climb onto my shoulders. I'll push you up and you can climb out. The roof’s flat, so don’t walk across it. Stay on your hands and knees. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Unable to speak through the smoke, she nodded.

  Brendan knelt and helped her to climb, boosting her up. The ragged remnants of the skylight glass bit into Cassie’s fingers as she hauled herself up, but she barely registered the pain.

  She pulled herself onto the roof, scraping hands, arms, and knees, and gulped fresh air before turning back to make sure Brendan was following.

  He was below, climbing onto the chair, reaching up to test the distance between the tips of his fingers and the edge of the skylight.

  “Go!” he yelled, waving her away.

  “Not without you!” she said. Cassie had a nightmare vision of him being unable to get a grip firm enough to pull up his body weight. She pictured him letting go and falling back into the roiling smoke. But in one fluid motion, he jumped, caught the edges of the opening, and pulled himself up and out onto the roof.

  “Let's go,” he said.

  He led the way to the edge of the building. Cassie looked over and saw a vast expanse of open air between them and the ground. She knew they were only one floor up, but it felt like many more. Brendan reached over and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

  “The boys will be here soon,” he said. “But we need to get off this roof in case it collapses. I’ll lower you as far as I can so you won’t have too long a drop. You ready?”

  Cassie stared at him, unsure of what to say.

  "All you have to do is trust me," he said.

  Cassie nodded, trying to trust him and hoping her face wouldn’t give away the depth of her fear. She scrambled over the edge. They gripped each other’s wrists as she walked her feet down the wall, then Brendan leaned out as far as he could.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  He let go. Cassie dropped. She hit the ground heavily, knocking the wind out of her. She rolled aside to let Brendan follow, gasping for breath. He landed a few moments later, with a sickening crack.

  “Aah!” he yelled, followed by a stream of profanities as he gingerly touched his right ankle. Cassie staggered forward to support him, pulling his arm around her shoulders. Together they limped from 75 Louisburg Drive, heading across the street to safety.

  Minutes later, the street was full of fire trucks dousing the building with powerful jets of water. Brendan joked with the paramedics as they strapped ice packs to his ankle but his eyes never left Cassie.

  They were both checked for other injuries, the paramedics cleaning their bruises and telling them to stop chattering and keep their oxygen masks on.

  “What were you doing there?” Cassie asked as they sat in the back of the ambulance. “I thought you’d gone to work.”

  “That was the plan,” he said. “I drove away, but then I had a bad feeling about leaving you alone. I came back, and thought I’d just wait at the corner until I saw you come out safely.

  But then I saw Anderson drive off. I thought that was strange that he’d leave you there alone. Then I saw Nick drive out and I got really suspicious.”

  He smiled ruefully, “And I really wanted to have a chat with him about his manners. I tried to flag him down and he nearly ran me over. Then I saw the smoke, and the rest, including my broken ankle, is history."

  Cassie looked down, “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

  “It’s all worth it” Brendan smiled and gently titled her head to look at him, “I’ll do anything for good chicken parmesan.”

  Cassie smiled and looked down at his ankle.

  “How do you know it’s broken?” she asked, teasing. “Isn’t it traditional to have an x-ray to figure that out?”

  “You’re quite right,” Brendan said, grinning. “But it must be broken. I would never perform a heroic rescue and come out of it with just a sprain for my trouble. Sprains are for wimps.”

  Cassie and Brendan were released from the hospital later that day, with a dozen stitches between them and a plaster cast on Brendan’s ankle. The break was a simple frac
ture, and he was expected to heal cleanly and completely within six weeks.

  “I haven’t said thank you yet,” he said that evening, supervising Cassie’s first attempt at making strong, sweet, rum-laced tea.

  “What for?” she asked, dropping a teabag into the pot.

  “For getting me out of work for six weeks," he said, smiling at her.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, adding another teabag and pouring hot water over them. “But shouldn’t I be thanking you for, you know, getting me out of a burning building? Saving my life?”

  He appeared to give the matter some thought, then shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “That's way less important than six weeks of not having to deal with people who can’t work toasters without burning down kitchens.”

  He hopped over to stand behind her and leaned one of his crutches against the counter, freeing his arm to wind it around her waist.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered, serious. “When I saw that fire, I was worried I was too late.”

  “I’m just glad he’s been caught,” Cassie said with a shudder. It hadn’t taken the police long to catch up with Nick. One phone call to his father had stopped his access to any of the Mandeville assets, and his distinctive Town Car had been easy for the patrol cars to spot.

  Cassie splashed a liberal dose of rum into each mug, stirred in two heaping spoonfuls of sugar, and carried them to the living room. She and Brendan curled up together on the couch.

  “Do you have enough pillows under your ankle?” she asked. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “I’m great,” he said, putting his arm around her. “And lucky to have such a capable nurse. Especially at such a reasonable cost. There aren’t many nurses these days who will work for just room and board.”

  “You’re honestly okay with me staying here until my place is ready?”

  “No,” he replied, looking her in the eye. “I’d rather you stayed here even after your place is ready. I’d like you to stay here forever. I never want to be apart from you again, Cassie. I realized that when we stopped speaking. I knew it for certain when I thought Nick had hurt you.