Flashpoint

Chapter 16

After everyone had gone, Brooke grabbed a trash bag and started to clean up.

“Leave it,” Zach told her, weary to the bone. “I can do it.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you’ve barely moved all night?”

He lifted a shoulder, which pulled at his burns and had pain shooting through him. He didn’t make a sound, he very carefully didn’t make a sound, but she was at his side in a heartbeat.

“Damn stubborn man,” she murmured, helping him up.

Suddenly, all he could think about was how her hands felt on him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting you to bed.”

Just the words had his body leaping to attention. Even in pain and pissed off at the world, he could still get it up for her. “Sorry, but I’m bound to disappoint you tonight.”

“Shut up, Zach.”

Upstairs in his room, she got him onto the bed. He looked up into her face. Her beautiful face. She was worried sick, and, he realized with some shame, that he was not the only one hurting. “I talked to Tommy tonight. He said he believed me.”

“What?” Brooke went still. “Oh, Zach,” she breathed. “I’m so glad! Does he know who the arsonist is?”

This was the hard part. “He suspects an inside job.”

“Inside…” Her mind worked fast, and she gasped. “No.”

“The warehouse fire wasn’t an accident.” He went to reach for her and gritted his teeth at the pain.

“I’m going to get your meds and water. Don’t move.”

When she was gone, he tried to pull off his shoes, but the cast on his arm felt heavy. Plus, moving hurt. Not feeling up to taking off his own damn shirt, much less his pants, he lay back on the bed, out of breath and frustrated.

“Why don’t you get undressed?” she asked, coming back into the room with a glass of water and a pill.

He closed his eyes. “Yeah. Good idea.”

“Need help?”

“No. I can do this. Seriously.”

“Seriously? Get real, Zach.” He felt her hands pulling off his shoes, heard them hit the floor one at a time. “Because, seriously? You are full of shit.” Carefully, with a surprisingly gentle touch considering the sarcasm in her voice, she helped him out of his shirt. “So what else did Tommy say?”

“That I’ve pissed off the arsonist.”

She went still. “You’re in danger?”

“I’m safe here.”

Her eyes searched his as her hands slid over his bare chest.

Instead of the pain he’d felt for days, all he felt was the touch of her warm hands. She was better than Vicodin. Then she trailed those hands down and reached for the buttons on his Levi’s. “You still need my help, right?”

Oh, yeah. He nodded, and pop went the first button. And then the second, and suddenly Zach was breathing as if he’d been running.

She wasn’t breathing too steadily, either.

“Okay, maybe I’d better do this.” His hands were shaking as he pulled open the rest of the buttons, but shoving the denim down his legs required grating his teeth and lifting his hips. By the time he got them down a mere inch, he was beginning to sweat.

“Here.” She got on the bed for leverage, straddling his lower legs, and pulled his jeans down to his thighs, revealing the fact that he’d gone commando that morning.

Which left the part of him that was the happiest to see her bouncing free.

Her eyes widened.

“I told you I should do this.”

“I’m sorry.” She was still staring.

“Not helping.”

At that, Brooke actually snickered, but he could hear the breathlessness in the sound.

And the wanting.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Still not helping.”

“Right.” She scrambled off his legs.

Good. Great. She was going away. But then she pulled his jeans the rest of the way off, tossing them to the floor. Leaving him buck naked.

“You…need a blanket.”

Which was beneath him. He rolled toward her just as she leaned in to try to pull it out from under him, and they bumped into each other.

“Sorry,” she gasped, but in countering her own movement, she bumped into him again.

They went utterly still.

He had his hands on her arms. She had hers braced on his chest, and she was still staring at the part of him boring a hold in her belly.

“Zach?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You seem to need some…” Her gaze met his. “Letting loose.”

He laughed, which hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just what I need.” You… And with that, he tugged her overtop of him.

At the full body contact with Zach, what happened within Brooke was what happened every time-a shockingly intense, insatiable hunger arose. “Zach-”

“I know. Condom.”

She leaned over and grabbed one from his nightstand, while he tugged at her zipper, but his fingers were shaking. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”

“I have no idea-” Before she got the words out, Zach had her capris down and pushed open her legs. Pretty damn talented for a man with one arm. Then he lifted her up and thrust into her.

Their twin groans of pleasure mingled in the air.

Her hands were braced on either side of his face, her head bent low to his. Staring into his eyes, she was startled at how easily she lost herself in him.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Brooke had no idea how she could want him this way, as if she would die if she didn’t have him. The hunger filled her so that she could think of nothing else, and she rocked her hips, a movement that wrested a grunt from him. His good hand gripped her, holding her still. “Don’t move.” His voice was like sandpaper. “God, don’t move, or this’ll be over-”

She moved. She couldn’t help it; she had to. She rocked her hips again, absorbing the low, rough sound torn from deep in his throat. Leaning over him, she went to bury her face in the crook of his neck but he caught her, cupped her jaw and held it so that she could do nothing but look right into his eyes as he met her thrust for thrust, until she began to tremble, then burst. He was right with her, pulsing inside her even as she shattered around him.

“Yeah.” He breathed a shaky sigh as she sagged over top of him, a boneless puddle of raw nerve endings. “Just what the doctor ordered.” She felt his mouth press to the side of her throat and closed her eyes, letting the drowsiness take her-which was infinitely preferable to facing the fact that she had no idea how she was going to walk away from this man.

Brooke awoke to the sun pouring in through the window and splashing all over her face with startling cheer.

But she always shut her shades, so…

She jerked upright. Yep, she wasn’t in her bed, she was in Zach’s. Legs entwined, arms entwined, no covers in sight because their body heat had been enough. Once again she’d slept the entire night wrapped around him as if…

As if she belonged here.

Zach stirred, opened an eye. He had two days’ growth on his jaw, and some serious bed-head, and he looked so hot she wanted to gobble him up.

Again. “Overslept,” she said, and tried to free herself. “Going to be late-” She broke off when he merely tightened his grip on her. “What?”

“Just wondering if it worked. If I’m suitably relaxed or if maybe we should kept working on it.”

She stared into his gorgeous, sleepy face and remembered his warning not to fall in love with him. “You’re fine.” She scrambled up, glanced at the clock again on the off chance it had miraculously changed in her favor. “Where the hell are my panties?”

Zach came up on an elbow and surveyed the room. “There.”

On his lamp. Perfect. Her bra was draped over a bedpost like a trophy. Snatching it up, she glared at him, just lying there looking like sin on a stick. “I’m late,” she said more to herself. Very late. Late for the rest of her life, which was right around the corner. In fact, she was meeting the real estate agent today to discuss an offer she’d received on the house yesterday. With a sigh, she headed toward the door.

“Brooke?”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“Be careful out there.”

“I always am.”

“I know. But…”

But now one of them was a possible arsonist and had hurt Zach. Anyone could get hurt. She got that. “I can take care of myself.”

“But-”

“And after next week, I’ll be on my own.” Because that brought a lump to her throat, she had to swallow hard to continue. “I realize that last night was mostly my doing, but you should know, I got an offer on the house. Three more shifts, and I’m gone.”

He closed his eyes, but not before she saw a flash of emotion much deeper than affection. “I know.”

“Goodbye, Zach.”

Now he opened those eyes again, and let her see his sadness. “Is that it? Goodbye, the end?”

“What else is there?”

When he opened his mouth and then shut it, she shook her head. “Exactly. Goodbye, Zach.”

Well, what had she expected, a marriage proposal? She’d only met him five and a half weeks ago, and he wasn’t exactly known for being a commitment king. Brooke drove to work, not acknowledging the burning in her eyes, doing her damnedest not to think about the fact that he’d let her walk away.

He’d let her say goodbye.

She pulled into the parking lot. With Zach and Blake both still out, plus several others hit by a flu bug, she was on the B shift for the first time, with a whole new gang, and she found herself working with an EMT named Isobel. Adding to her stress, Brooke was the scheduled driver for the day, which began the moment she got out of her car and the bell rang.

“Watch your speed,” was Isobel’s most common refrain, uttered every two seconds on every one of their many, many calls. Isobel had a cap of dark hair and darker eyes, both her expression and demeanor screaming, I know I’m a woman in a man’s world, but hear me roar. “Watch that turn-”

“I’m watching.”

“Watch-”

“I’ll keep watching,” Brooke said evenly, each and every time, though by the afternoon, she didn’t feel so even. She missed Dustin. “Believe it or not, I’ve actually driven once or twice before.”

“You can never be too careful is all.” Isobel eyed the speedometer. “Watch-”

“Okay.” Brooke took a deep breath. “Still watching.”

“Sorry.” Isobel flashed a small, conciliatory smile. “I know I’m a pain. I’m just overly cautious.”

Nothing wrong with that. If only Brooke had watched over her own broken heart as cautiously…

Isobel was blessedly quiet until they turned on Third Street, heading toward their call, an outdoor beach café with a kitchen fire, where one of the cooks had passed out from the smoke and hit his head. A hundred yards ahead, the light turned red.

Isobel pointed. “Watch-” Then she caught herself, and cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

Brooke pulled up behind two fire trucks. They had the fire contained, but the flames were still impressive, leaping fifty feet into the sky. She and Isobel got out of their rig and immediately one of the firefighters came up to them. “The vic vanished on us. We’re still looking for him.”

Isobel went back to the radio to report the information. As Brooke took in the fire, she was shocked to see Blake there, standing just off to the side. He was supposed to still be recuperating in the hospital. She’d visited him the day before, and he’d been in no shape to be up. Worried, she moved to his side. “Blake?”

A low, raw sound escaped him and she took a closer look. He wasn’t in his gear. He couldn’t have been, not with the cast on his leg. His jeans were cut over the cast, and he wore a sweatshirt that looked odd, given it was at least eighty-five degrees outside. He leaned his weight on a crutch, but what caused Brooke concern was how pale he looked, and the fact that he was sweating profusely. “Blake?”

He didn’t respond. Eyes locked on the flames, face tight, he seemed miles away.

When she set her hand on his arm, he nearly leaped out of his skin. “Hey, just me.” She sent him a smile he didn’t return. “You all right?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look it. You’re in pain.”

“Nah. I’ve got enough pain meds in me to change my name to Anna Nicole Smith.”

With a low laugh, she turned back to the rig and saw Isobel had located their vic. He was shaking his head, pushing her hands away before walking off. He didn’t seem to want treatment. “Looks like we don’t have a transport after all. Can we give you a ride?”

When Blake didn’t answer, she looked at him-he was limping away with shocking speed. Running after him, Brooke caught up just as he got as close as he could to the flames without igniting. “Blake, what are you doing?”

At the sound of her voice, he jerked. “Brooke?” He blinked, as if surprised to see her, as if he didn’t remember seeing her only two seconds ago.

“Okay, you know what? You’re not okay.” She put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go sit down.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m working. On you. Why are you out of the hospital?”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Come on. Let’s get you back.” Away from the fire and the pain she suspected he was suffering. “We’re in the way here.”

He looked around and blanched. “God, I’m sorry.”

“For what, Blake?”

“I can’t…” He shoved his fingers through his hair and turned away from her, but not before she saw a suspicious sheen to his eyes. “I’m so damned sorry. I should have handled this better. I should have stopped it sooner.”

“Blake? Stopped what sooner?”

Staring at the flames, he appeared transfixed. “I don’t want to lose another partner. Or a friend.”

“What do you mean? Blake, done what sooner?”

“Lots of things, actually.” He walked off, but again she stopped him.

“I don’t think being alone is what you need, Blake.”

“Please.” He jerked free, his face tortured. “Just leave me alone. There’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening.”

“What do you mean?” But she was afraid she knew, or at least was starting to know. “Blake-”

“It’s not what you think.”

But she was suddenly sure it was exactly what she thought. The arsonist was someone from within their own ranks. Possibly, terrifyingly, the someone standing right here in front of her. “Okay, let’s go over to the ambulance, and-”

“Isobel needs you.”

Brooke turned back to the rig and saw Isobel waving at her frantically.

“We have a call!” she was yelling.

Brooke turned back to Blake. “I have to go but I want you to come with me-”

But she was talking to herself. “Blake?”

He’d vanished.