Shift’s End Read online

  Whatever it was, it made him look young and green. Wet behind the ears. Jack had the sudden urge to send him back home to his parents, but he must have made it all the way through training to be standing in the middle of his firehouse and he was greeting Tito Alvarez like a brother.

  Jack’s new shoes squeaked against the station’s stained cement floor. On the list of things he didn’t like about being in charge, having to be nice to scum-sucking property owners who always seemed to think he should be capable of miracles was number two, giving tours to new recruits was number three with a bullet, but both of those were preferable to number four: eating Gomez’s cooking any time it was his turn in the kitchen.

  Luckily, guided tours were one more duty he could happily turn over to Troy. He waved over his second-in-command. No one was better at writing out shift schedules or putting newbies at ease.

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

  It was probably his first ex-wife calling to talk about his son...

  Or his second ex-wife calling to bitch about his first ex-wife...

  Or maybe it was someone from the department ready to rain fire and brimstone down on his head for Luke’s injury.

  Jack fiddled in his pocket until he found his heartburn pills, pulled them out and popped two. According to the label they were supposed to taste like banana.

  The label was a liar.

  They tasted like ass.

  His phone buzzed again, and suddenly making nice with the new guy didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He straightened his shoulders and walked over to the young man, who got better looking with every step. Up close even Dumbo ears couldn’t detract from long sooty lashes and full lips.

  Jack forced himself to take a deep breath, held out a hand, and burped banana ass into the hottie’s face.

  Damn it.

  * * *

  Diesel Evers was finding it hard to concentrate on...anything. The city was so freaking noisy, with too many people all crammed in together. He didn’t know how any of them got through the day, given they only got about ten minutes of sunlight each. Maybe they were vampires. That would explain a lot, like the black clothes and toothy smiles.

  Fuck. His head was spinning.

  He’d thought the firehouse would be better. At least in a firehouse he knew what he was doing. He knew where he stood. His people had produced generations of firefighters. He’d practically grown up in the job. Joining the Atlantic City Fire Department had been one of the proudest days of his life.

  Then he’d met Chase and everything had gone to hell.

  He might have been okay if it was just Tito, who’d transferred over from New Jersey two years earlier, but then the new guy had walked over and started talking.

  The newcomer was maybe five inches shorter than Diesel with salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to the side of his head. Diesel caught a glimpse of dark blue eyes and full lips before dipping his head. The guy was wearing a navy polo with the department logo on the breast and a pair of slacks that had seen better days. His boots gleamed.

  And he smelled faintly of bananas?

  That couldn’t be right.

  Tito was nodding along to whatever he was saying like it was important, and damn Diesel knew he should be listening but the place was buzzing with noise and people. Maybe if he just kept nodding too, no one would notice he’d missed out on the entire conversation.

  He must have nodded at exactly the right time because Banana Breath patted him on the shoulder and walked away.

  “Good work, hombre. Captain likes you.” Tito nudged him in the side. “Let’s get you settled. I think there’s an empty locker the other side of mine.”

  They made it less than six feet when the sirens started blaring.

  Tito’s mouth widened into the mother of all grins. “They’re playing our song. Time to gear up.”

  Diesel shook his head. “I haven’t put my gear away or met any of the guys.”

  “And?” Tito slapped him on the back. “Best way to make friends is in the field, your cousin told me that. It’s called trial by fire for a reason.”

  Not exactly reassuring, but maybe Tito had a point. Diesel might be a washed-out version of the man he’d been, but he could still do his freaking job. He could fight fires with the best of them. He could work hard and save people.

  Probably.

  Time to get to work. He suited up and headed out with the crew—even if they weren’t going to put him on point after less than twenty minutes at the firehouse. Fortunately it was still early summer. The sun glimmered between the skyscrapers and people moved at a fast clip. Between the good weather and the cheerful festivals at many of the major parks, people managed to stay out of their apartments and out of trouble. The fire was in a park—someone had tried to start a barbecue with Everclear—and for the next few days all the other callouts were for little fires, problems that could be solved with a handheld extinguisher and a little common sense. It was an entire week before Diesel got the chance to prove himself with a real fire.

  He hadn’t known there were family houses in Manhattan, but the townhouse burning merrily away in front of him even had a damn playset in the front yard. It was freaking adorable even if it probably cost more than two arms and six legs. The screaming kid standing halfway down the block, his arms wrapped around his nanny’s knees, wailing his ears out, was less cute.

  Shit. Diesel hoped the house wasn’t too badly damaged. He liked kids, even if he wasn’t going to have one. It’d be a crying shame if the little cutie had to spend the night somewhere other than his bed.

  His radio crackled. “Nanny says the mom’s on a business trip in London and the dad’s at the office for the day,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear. “The place is empty. Hit it with everything we’ve got. I want to get out of here.”

  That had to be the captain. Diesel hadn’t exchanged any words with the man since his first day. He was surprised by the rolling thunder in his words. With his voice issuing orders in Diesel’s ears everything got real simple real fast. All he had to do was follow directions and do exactly as he’d been trained. He planted his feet solidly in the ground, gripped the hose tight in his gloved hands, and aimed for the spots where the fire was thickest.

  The fire was just beginning to die down when the kid broke loose from his nanny. “Ginger!” He couldn’t be more than five years old. He tumbled forward on stubby little legs. “Ginger! Ginger-Pie!” The nanny was only a few steps behind him, but the kid was moving like a bullet, fast and determined. He made a beeline for the smoking house.

  Damn. Did anyone else see him? Diesel’s head whipped around. It was the middle of the day and the streets were crowded with people. Men and women rushed by on the sidewalk behind him. Half a dozen firefighters were moving intently, and somewhere in the back the captain with the melodic voice was directing the crew in the easy rhythm of a well-conducted symphony.

  None of them seemed to notice the kid.

  Sweat poured down Diesel’s back to pool at the base of his spine. His clothes were sticking to his body. He knew what he was supposed to do: stay with the team working the hoses no matter what. The fire was definitely going out, but the hose was still needed to wet down the area around the fire and make sure they’d gotten all the embers.

  The kid cut across the side yard. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a pale blue polo shirt, a miniature captain of industry except for the bare feet slapping across the grass. His hands were folded up tight against his chest. Tears streamed down his face.

  “Damn it.” Diesel turned and thrust the hose into the hands of the nearest firefighter. He was going to regret this in a few hours, but he couldn’t think about that now. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

  His legs stretched out in front of him, and his feet slammed against the ground. His hands were sweating. In the past year or so, he’d let a lot o
f things go by the wayside but his muscles were still intact. He could still pass the fitness tests.

  He could catch up with one little boy.

  Even if it killed him.

  “Boss—” He couldn’t remember his new captain’s name. If he couldn’t follow orders and stay on the line then he didn’t deserve to be a firefighter. Forget waiting a couple of hours. A sour taste filled his mouth. He already regretted breaking rank. “Left hand side, near the trees.”

  “You got him, Evers?”

  “Yes, sir.” He was close enough to hear every heart-wrenching sob now.

  “Davey!” The nanny was calling the kid’s name. “Davey! Come here right now.”

  Half a dozen more feet and Davey would be at the side door to the building. It was such a small space and there—a flicker of orange and red and heat through the kitchen window. He’d thought the fire was almost done. He’d been wrong. It was still raging.

  Damn it.

  This was why they didn’t consider a fire completely out until the ground was checked at least a dozen times. In fact, it must have found a fresh source of accelerant because it was raging.

  The flames were licking at the kitchen’s wooden counters. Any minute now and they’d make it to the stove. Not good.

  The kid didn’t notice the fire leaping toward the second story, or if he did he just didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t slowing down. If anything he was getting faster. “Ginger!”

  Crazy brat. Diesel’s lungs strained as he hurried to catch up. He had to admire the kid’s form though. Another couple of years and he’d be cheering for him in the Olympics.

  Diesel bent down like a football player going in for a low tackle. He was flying now, ignoring the weight of his gear. Davey had his hand on the door and—

  Thud. Diesel slammed into him from the side, lifting him off the ground and carrying him forward five paces before swinging around and making a beeline back toward the nanny. Small hands connected with his shoulders, banging hard.

  “Let me down!” Davey kicked him in the gut. “I’ve got to get Ginger.”

  What the hell? Diesel handed his cargo over to the young woman in the pastel sweater set. “There’s a person left in the house?”

  “Not a person,” the nanny said. “Ginger’s his dog.”

  A dog wasn’t the same as a person. It wasn’t worth risking a little kid’s life over, but he was still screaming his tiny lungs out and Diesel was finding it harder and harder to think. “If I open the door can she get out on her own?”

  “She’s crated up in the basement rec room.” The nanny rolled her eyes. “His parents didn’t want a dog in the first place. Too messy.”

  Crud. Diesel’s feet were itching in his heavy boots. He liked dogs as much as he liked kids, maybe even more. They weren’t judgmental. He fumbled with his radio. “Boss, Nanny says there’s a dog in the house. What do you want me to do?”

  The line crackled, and then—“Ask the nanny for the layout. Report back. I can put together an insertion team, maybe.”

  According to the nanny, the basement stairs were right off the side door. It would be the work of a moment to get down the stairs, grab the dog, and get out, but he had his instructions.

  Diesel reported the information back as quickly as he got it. He was brand spanking new. There was no way the captain would let him go inside, and yet...“I’m closer,” he said. “I can get her. Fast.”

  “Not a chance. I’m sending Barnes.”

  “The fire’s starting up again in the back, Captain. There’s no time to get him over from the other side of the building. It’s now or never.”

  He was already moving when that deep voice sounded over the line. “I’m leaving this up to your judgment, Evers, but if you get killed I’m kicking Alvarez’s ass to kingdom come.”

  “Watch out. I’ve met Tito’s wife. He might like it.” Diesel’s stride accelerated. When he got to the door, he turned the knob and—nothing. It didn’t even rattle.

  Hell. He turned to the side, held his breath, and slammed a foot into the door right beneath the knob. It shuddered and held. Time to get serious. He kicked it a second time, harder.

  Crunch. The door cracked awkwardly in two. Good. Diesel licked his lips and took a deep breath. One more kick and he could reach in to unlock it from the inside. He could see stairs in either direction. To the left, the stairs up to the kitchen were full of smoke. To the right, the steps led down into the basement.

  The fire’s familiar crackle filled the cramped space, but if Diesel concentrated hard he could hear a dog whining in the distance. He tucked his head down and stomped down the steps. Smoke went up unless it was directed elsewhere. The farther down he went the easier it got to breathe, which didn’t mean the first floor wouldn’t come crashing down on top of him if given the chance.

  The basement had three doors. The first led to a neat laundry room with gleaming white equipment. The second went to a full bathroom with a jetted tub. The third opened up to a well-appointed rec room complete with a pool table, a television that took up most of a wall, and an oversize sectional.

  It took him a minute to spot the dog crate tucked over next to a rack of video game equipment. It wasn’t big. He hustled over and bent down. The animal inside was small, fluffy, and orange. It had a wet black nose and a notch in its left ear. If he didn’t know better he’d think it was a particularly ugly cat.

  Needle-thin teeth snapped at his fingers, but Diesel would bite too if he was being attacked by a monster approximately a million times his size. He pulled open the crate door, ignoring the dog’s whined protest.

  “Easy, little buddy,” he crooned as he tucked the dog into his jacket. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Then he turned back toward the door.

  The smoke was getting thicker now. The fire must have picked up speed or else it had broken through a new exterior wall, and fresh air was pouring in. Either way it was being directed down the stairwell and not up. Damn it. He was screwed. Tito was going to get his ass beat. Everything would finally be over.

  “Evers,” the captain snapped over the radio. “I don’t see you on the street. Do I need to send someone in after you?”

  “Nah, boss.” He kept one hand tight against his chest, supporting the dog. “I’m good.”

  “Right, I don’t care what you have to do. Get your ass out on the pavement, now.”

  “Yes, boss.” Diesel ducked his head down as he hustled toward the stairs. The smoke was thick. The heat was enough to make his head spin, but he kept moving forward.

  It had seemed like a short flight of stairs on the way down. Now it was interminable. He concentrated on his breathing as he forced his body to move forward. He wasn’t wearing an oxygen tank and his lungs were screaming.

  But then his boot finally scraped against the landing and he could see clear skies through the open door. Damn, he’d made it to the top. He stumbled forward. Finally he could allow himself to gasp desperately, dragging in bright bursts of air.

  He made it all the way to the street before he spotted Davey and his keeper. They were tucked up next to the ambulance with two men glaring at them. One of the men was wearing a full set of bunker gear. Next to him was a short man with pale hair who Diesel recognized from around the station. He was a paramedic? And then there was—

  Captain Jack Tracey was tall and muscular. If he wasn’t wearing the same clothes he’d had on a few days earlier then they were almost identical. His silver bright hair was sticking up in spikes. His brow was furrowed. His cheeks were flushed. He was laying into the nanny. “I don’t care how important you think his tutoring sessions are—”

  “His parents—”

  “And I don’t give a flying fuck about his parents,” the captain raged. “If anything happens to my man because you left a damn iron going in the other room while you w
ere teaching him his ABCs then I’ll have your ass on a platter. Do you understand me?”

  The captain actually sounded like he cared, which was weird since they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since he started. Maybe he’d say the same thing about any other man under his command. Besides, the nanny looked like she felt bad enough already. She’d been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were stained. One hand was clasped around Davey’s wrist like a metal cuff while the other tangled in her cardigan.

  When she tried to speak, her words were fumbling and desperate. “I was just doing my job.”

  “Ms. Morrisey—”

  “I’m fine.” Diesel took a half step forward, putting himself between the captain and the nanny. Now the captain was glaring at him like he’d done something wrong. Too damn bad. He was tired and the lady looked exhausted. More important, the kid was staring up at them with big glowing eyes. He bent down next to the boy. “Your name’s Davey, right?”

  “David Higginbottom the Third.” Davey hiccupped.

  “Good to know, Mr. Higginbottom.” Diesel undid the top few buttons of his jacket, opening it up so the evil minion masquerading as a dog could poke her orange head out. “Does this belong to you?”

  “Ginger!” Davey shouted loud enough to break eardrums. He launched himself forward at the animal.

  Itty-bitty claws dug into Diesel’s skin. Ginger yelped loudly. She wasn’t enthusiastic about being returned to her owner, but she didn’t growl as Davey pulled her into his arms like a stuffed animal. After a moment’s wriggling, she settled down in his arms.

  “Thank you so much for finding her.” The nanny wiped her face on the edge of her sleeve. Damn, she was young, maybe twenty.

  “Not a problem, Miss Morrisey.”

  “It’s Emma.” She smiled. The look wasn’t flirtatious but it still made Diesel feel uncomfortable. He did his jacket back up all the way to the collar.

  Time to get back to work.

  Chapter Three

  “O’Malley,” Jack said. “Want to explain your actions today?” The fire was out, everyone was safe, and Jack was pissed. Three firefighters had screwed up. Lee Juracek had ended up tangled in his own hose, Ryan O’Malley tripped over his own boots to land ass over teakettle in the topiary, and Diesel Evers—