Once Burned (Firehouse Fourteen Book 1) (3 page)

"Oh shit," Mike repeated under her breath, too horrified to do anything more than force herself to breathe. Not an easy task, considering she was literally frozen to the spot. She willed herself to move, to do something, anything, except stand there like an idiot. Her fist tightened around the sponge she had been using to wash the dishes left over from the day shift, her nails digging into the flesh of her palm.

Unsure what else to say or do, wondering if there was anything she
should
do, she forced herself to draw another deep breath into her burning lungs then tossed the sponge in the sink behind her. The air was thick with heated tension. The buzzing in her ears made it impossible for her to hear anything.

Shit, it's Nicky. Shit, it's Nicky.
The phrase kept spinning through her mind until she thought she'd be sick with the dizziness of it. Her chest heaved with the effort to breathe and her pulse beat in a crazy tap dancer's rhythm.

Did anyone else notice the sudden change in the room? Mike forced herself to look away from that face from her past and quickly glanced around. Five sets of eyes fixed on her with varying degrees of bewilderment. She could still feel
his
eyes on her, too, filled with stunned disbelief.

Feeling like she was trapped in a nightmare where everything moved with the speed of molasses, Mike pushed away from the counter and walked across the room, straight past the frozen figure of Nicky Lansing and through the swinging door. She turned a corner and rushed through a second door that opened into the engine room, not stopping until she reached the engine on the far side, where she promptly collapsed on the back step.

Heedless of the dirt and grime, she let her head drop against the back compartment door, ignoring the length of hose line in her way. Her breathing came in shallow gasps that did nothing to help the lightheadedness causing black dots to dance across her closed lids.

Hyperventilating. She was hyperventilating. The calm, rational part of her—she was surprised she still had one—told her to lean forward, to get a grip on herself and her breathing. Now bent over, sitting with her head between her knees, Mikey grabbed the running board with both hands and concentrated on the feel of the diamond plate cutting into her palms.

The spots faded away and her breathing slowed to something closer to normal. One last deep breath and she straightened, only to choke on a scream when she came face-to-face with Jay, his brows lowered in a frown as he studied her with concern.

"Jesus! Don't scare me like that!" She pushed him away then stood, only to sit back down when she realized how bad her knees were shaking.

"Scare
you
? What is wrong with you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I couldn't be better! Don't I look fine?"

"You look like you're ready to pass out. What the hell is going on? Do you know that guy? He looks like he's seen a ghost!"

"He probably thinks he has." Mike moved over and motioned for Jay to sit down, ignoring his scrutiny as he twisted sideways and continued staring at her.

"Are you going to explain that?"

"No." She ran her hands through her hair, muttering when she pulled a thick hank of it loose from the ponytail. Sighing, she reached back and pulled the elastic band loose, then quickly rearranged her hair into a more secure hold. Jay watched her intently then nudged her leg with his when she continued to ignore him.

"Well?"

"Well nothing. He's just somebody I used to know, that's all."

Jay snorted. "Bull."

"Okay, fine," she conceded. "He's also somebody I never wanted to see again." Mike reached down and gingerly touched her right side, trying not to remember but unable to forget. If Jay noticed the motion, he didn't say anything.

They sat in silence, the familiar background noises of the station virtually unnoticed. A few minutes went by before Jay spoke again. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Mike shook her head, ready to make a sarcastic reply when the sound of footsteps echoed through the engine room. The steps paused then changed directions before walking around the side of the engine, coming closer. Mike knew without looking who it was: the steps were those of a stranger, someone who didn't know his way around.

Nicky stopped at the back of the engine, not saying anything as Jay slowly stood and positioned himself slightly in front of Mike, shielding her. She touched his arm briefly, in a gesture both of thanks and of reassurance that she was alright. Jay looked back at her, one brow cocked in question, then reluctantly walked away at her nod. Mike didn't see where he went but she knew he would be close by in case he was needed.

She stood slightly, changing her position on the running board so she was leaning on it instead of sitting, then crossed her arms in front of her, covering the jagged scar that ran along her left forearm. The stance was as close to aloof and detached as she could manage considering her insides were making a milkshake of her early dinner. Too late, she remembered the sunglasses hanging around her neck, and wished she would have thought to put them on to hide any emotion in her eyes.

With an effort that took more strength than she wanted to admit, she let her eyes slowly, coolly rake the man in front of her from top to bottom.

Dammit. The Nicky Lansing from her past had been ruggedly handsome with dark looks and boyish charm; this Nick Lansing was dangerously gorgeous. A little taller than she remembered, he stood just over six feet, and was definitely broader through the shoulders and chest. The boy she remembered had finally filled out, to all the best advantages.

The long hair of his past was gone, cut to a length that brushed just past the collar of the light blue shirt he wore. Still too long to be squeaky clean, but short enough by today's standards to be rated as professional. His eyes were the same, though. A dark chocolate brown framed in sinfully long lashes, they invited a person to swim in their depths and lose their soul without a second thought.

She would know, since she had done just that.

Those eyes were watching her now and she briefly met his direct gaze without meaning to. They had changed, she realized. There was an inner depth now, a maturity that had been missing those many years ago. And in that brief second when their eyes had met, she thought she glimpsed something else. Guilt? Regret? Somehow she doubted it.

Nicky shifted his weight from one foot to the other and jammed both hands into the pockets of his trousers. Mike watched his nervousness with a sense of satisfaction and refused to do anything to ease it. He cleared his throat, looked around, then finally returned his gaze to her. The corner of his mouth twitched in a forced smile, showing a glimpse of that damned dimple, then abruptly died.

"I, uh, I wasn't expecting to see you here," he finally said. His voice was deeper than she remembered, smooth and mellow. Probably soothing to the listener, too, if it had been anyone but her.

She didn't move, didn't respond, just stood there watching him as she fought the twitch she could feel building in her eye. He shifted again, removed one hand from his pocket and ran it through his thick hair. His eyes met hers then darted away.

"You look good, Michaela."

"Compared to the last time you saw me?" The words, full of bitter resentment, tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. She watched him cringe at the accusation but refused to do anything to lessen his discomfort. His suffering now was nothing compared to what she had gone through.

"Kayla—"

"Don't call me that!" Mike uncrossed her arms and pushed herself off the running board, standing so there was less than a foot between them. She narrowed her eyes at Nick, clamping her mouth shut against all the words she wanted to pummel him with. Anger, red-hot and bone-deep, coursed through her, scaring her. Her emotions hadn't been this close to the surface for a long time and she hated him for the sudden lack of control that swamped her.

"I'm sor—"

Mike stepped forward, cutting him off, and jabbed a finger in his direction, not quite touching him. "No! Don't you even dare say it. You—"

A shrill alarm cut her off, startling Nick. She ignored him and cocked her head, thankful for the interruption as she listened to the radio that suddenly blared through the engine room. Hurried footsteps echoed around them, coming from different directions as the station came to life. Mike shot one last glance at Nick, who was obviously surprised at the sudden commotion, then walked away without saying anything.

She felt his eyes on her as she threw on her turnout gear, felt them following her as she ran to the engine and climbed into the jump seat. The smell of diesel exhaust filled the room as the engine roared to life and pulled out of the station, the siren beginning its mournful wail. Mike risked one last look out the window and saw Nick walking around the side of the building, his back to her as he walked away.

It was the view of Nick she was most accustomed to.

Mike slammed on the brakes, causing the old CJ7 to fishtail in the loose gravel of the parking lot. She reached over and turned down the stereo's volume, stared at the lot full of cars, then faced Jay.

"Are they giving something away tonight?"

Jay shook his head, looking around the lot with open-mouthed astonishment. "I have no idea."

Mike glanced at her watch. Half-past ten. She shrugged, then maneuvered the Jeep around the edge of the parking lot, finally finding an empty space around back. Well, not exactly a space. It was a patch of gravel and overgrown weeds between the dumpster and the encroaching woods, but it suited her purpose just fine. She drained the can of beer she had been drinking, reached above the roll bar and tossed it into the dumpster, then climbed out of the Jeep.

A deep booming bass shook the walls of the bar as they walked around the side of the clapboard building. Jay paused, listening to the beat before shooting her a crooked smile.

"Sounds like they have a band tonight. That's a first."

"Yeah, and so is this crowd," Mike added, shaking her head in disbelief. Their shift had been coming to Duffy's for a little more than two years now and never before had there been this many people here, not even on a Saturday night. That was the charm of Duffy's. It was out of the way, a run-down local dive that served cold beer and frozen pizza to the few loyal patrons who preferred its rural flavor over the influx of high-priced clubs and sports bars a few miles down the road.

Mike tugged on the wooden door and braced herself against the loud music that washed over her when they entered. The press of bodies forced them to elbow their way to the back, away from the crowd formed around the area where the band was set up. Mike pushed up on her toes to make sure the rest of the shift was at their normal table, then continued through the crowd.

"This place is too small for this," she complained in a near-shout as she and Jay finally took two seats that had been saved for them. The crowd that had temporarily parted to let them through closed again, effectively shutting out the view of the rest of the bar.

"Yeah, well. At least they're good." Their lieutenant, Pete Cook, filled two plastic cups from one of the pitchers of beer on the table. He passed them to Mike and Jay, then leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed his arms, a frown tugging at his already drooping mustache. Mike took a sip, only half-listening to the music surrounding them.

"Not bad," she agreed. "So why the lack of enthusiasm?"

Dave Warren, the paramedic from their shift, leaned over and jabbed a brooding Pete in the ribs. "Ignore him. He's just upset because they took the pool tables out for tonight."

The comment was greeted with a small spattering of laughter which was immediately drowned out by the combined noise from the band and crowd. Mike refrained from reminding Pete that he wasn't that great of a player anyway and pushed her chair closer to the wall. She took another sip of the beer then tilted the chair backwards so she could rest her head against the cheap paneling.

The headache that had been plaguing her since early evening was threatening to worsen, no doubt aided by the commotion going on around her. She noticed Dave muttering something in Jay's ear, watched as both of them turned carefully blank looks in her direction. Mike raised an eyebrow in silent question only to have both of them look away and direct their gazes into the crowd.

Which was probably for the best, she thought, draining the cup in two long swallows. Knowing those two, they were no doubt gearing up to give her a lecture on drinking too much. Again. The guys at work were closer to her than her own sparse family, but sometimes they took the role of surrogate brotherhood entirely too far.

Folding her hands around the now-empty cup, Mike closed her eyes and let the bass line of the music seep through her. The last strands of the current song faded away, only to be immediately followed by the raucous introduction of an old rock hit. The crowd applauded its approval, nearly drowning out the voice of the lead singer. Mike frowned and opened her eyes, staring at nothing. For a minute she thought the voice had been Nick's.

Ridiculous. She just had a bad case of Nicky-on-the-brain, something that had been plaguing her since Thursday night when he had shown up at the station. It was a temporary illness, that was all, nothing that another beer couldn't cure. She let her chair topple forward and motioned to Pete for a refill, raising her cup in silent thanks before taking a sip.

Her gaze wandered to the crowd pushing in on their private space, faceless bodies writhing to the steady beat, and part of her suddenly wanted to join them. Giving into the impulse, she stood and grabbed Jay's arm, tugging, trying to urge him into the dancing crowd.

"What are you doing? Are you nuts?" He protested, pulling against her and exchanging a glance with David. She let out a weary sigh and slumped into the chair, shaking her head at both of them.

"No, I'm not drunk, so you two can knock it off. In fact, I'm not even planning on drinking that much tonight."

Jay shot her a disbelieving look. "Uh-huh. In that case, maybe we should go someplace else."

"What?" Mike glanced at the two of them, then at Pete, who was engrossed in a conversation with someone else. "You guys want to leave already? Why?"

Dave and Jay stood up at the same time, pulling Mike with them. She stumbled to her feet and nearly fell in her attempt to stop them from dragging her across the floor. At the same time, the music stopped, the sudden silence punctuated by an amplified announcement that the band was taking a break. Mike froze, her eyes searching the far corner where the band had set up.

Nick stood less than fifty feet away, his eyes fixed on hers as he absently propped a too-familiar guitar against the wall. She ripped her gaze from his and shot a panicked look first at Jay then at Dave, who shrugged helplessly.

"Nobody knew who it was at first. We figured you might want to leave."

Leave. God, yes, she wanted to leave. But she wouldn't. This was her bar, her hangout, and damned if she'd run.

Straightening her shoulders, Mike took a deep breath and reached into her pocket, digging out the keys to the Jeep. She turned her head and met Nick's gaze straight on as she blindly tossed the keys to Jay.

"We're staying. And I changed my mind. I've decided to do some serious drinking tonight."