Once Burned (Firehouse Fourteen Book 1) (4 page)

Nick paused on the make-shift stage, his hand loosely wrapped around the neck of the guitar as common sense and intelligence warred with emotion. Kayla's gaze met his and even from this distance he could see a spark of defiance in the green eyes. He was a fool ten times over for even thinking about going over and talking to her, especially since it was obvious she had no desire to see him. He got that message loud and clear from the frosty glare, the tilt of the chin, the crisp turn of her body when she walked back to the opposite corner.

Going within twenty feet of her would rank right up there in the top ten list of stupid moves.

But nowhere near as stupid as his move ten years ago.

Nick tightened his hold on the guitar, closing his eyes against the memory and the flare of pain. The moment was brief and unwelcome, but decisive. Kayla had obviously put everything behind her and didn't want to see him for old times' sake. The least he could do was respect that. He busied himself with straightening the equipment around him, a mindless task that wasn't even necessary.

"I'm getting a beer. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah, I could handle a soda." Nick turned toward Brian and stifled a groan when he saw the small group of women gathered in a knot by the stage behind him. They were dividing their hungry gazes evenly between Brian and him. Nick's groan grew louder when he recognized the faces from some of the other places where the band had played. "On second thought, I'll go with you."

Brian rolled his eyes, careful not to let the cluster of groupies see him do it. The two of them smiled cordially as they pushed their way through the crowd and headed to the bar, angling for an empty space so they could get the barmaid's attention. A few minutes passed before someone shoved against Nick, clearing the space next to him. He shot the newcomer an irritated glance and realized it was the man who had come in with Kayla, the same one who had hovered around her the other day at the fire station. The same one she had tossed her keys to just a few minutes ago.

Nick clenched his jaw against the sudden irrational emotion that spiraled through his gut, an emotion he had no business feeling. The man studied Nick through flint gray eyes, an eerily vacant stare that sized him up while radiating some kind of feral warning. Nick met the stare head-on, refusing to look away, and was gratified when the man nodded slightly then called the barmaid over. Nick's irritation grew at the immediate service the man received. He didn't miss the look of interest on the barmaid's face as she smiled at the man.

"Hey Angie. We need two more pitchers and Mikey wants some tequila. Might as well just give me the bottle." Resignation laced the man's voice as he leaned against the bar, his eyes still on Nick as he waited for his order to be filled. A charged silence hovered between them and Nick shifted uncomfortably, waiting for something, wondering if the man was going to say anything—or just stare at him the entire time. A minute crawled by as the man grabbed a stirrer from the container on the bar and chewed on it, openly studying Nick.

Nick ignored him while he gave his order to a second bartender then stood back to wait.

"Soda, hm?"

The question startled Nick. After the intense sizing up he had been given, he hadn't expected the man's first words to question his choice of beverage. "Yeah, soda. I don't drink." Anymore, he added to himself.

"Hm. Wish you could give Mike some pointers on that." The man chewed on the stirrer some more, considering, then held out his hand. "Jay Moore."

Nick stared at the outstretched hand then grudgingly shook it, introducing himself. "So, everyone calls her Mike?" It wasn't the question Nick wanted to ask. Not even in the top ten. But he had no business asking questions, no business prying into Kayla's personal life. Not anymore. He'd never had that right, not even ten years ago. He sure as hell didn't have it now, not after everything that had happened.

"What else would we call her?"

"When I knew her, she went by Kayla."

Jay studied him some more then shrugged, leaning over the bar to pull the tray the barmaid sat in front of him closer. He rearranged the pitchers, bottle, and shot glasses then picked it up, instructing the woman to put everything on their tab. He turned back to Nick with another penetrating stare. "I get the feeling that was during another life for her. See you around."

Nick turned and watched him walk away, dodging through the crowd with the cumbersome tray, making it to the table without dropping anything. Laughing faces greeted him as the small group reached hungrily for the fresh drinks, Kayla the first in line. Nick was astonished when she grabbed the bottle of tequila and drank heavily, not even bothering with a glass. None of the men she was with reacted to it at all, not even a single raised eyebrow or a funny joke. Maybe it was normal for her, normal to them—but not to him. Not from Kayla, at least. The Kayla he remembered would never take long swallows from a bottle. The Kayla he remembered would give him hell if he'd done the same thing.

He closed his eyes, imagining the bitter liquid draining down his own throat. His stomach clenched painfully, even as his mouth watered with a distant craving. Nick grabbed the soda from the bartender and took a sip, washing away the phantom taste of alcohol.

What had Jay said? That he wished Nick could give some pointers on drinking soda to Kayla? Apparently her name wasn't the only thing that had changed in the long years since he had seen her last.

He continued watching the table in the corner, not worrying about getting caught staring since nobody was paying any attention to him.

Kayla was obviously the center of attention, her laughter heard even from this distance. She wore her hair down tonight, a thick mass of loose chestnut waves that curled past her shoulders. As he watched, she shoved a strand of long hair out of her face and leaned over the table to say something to the man across from her. Nick's eyes automatically dropped lower, resting on the shapely bottom that was being shown off. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry at the sight of her tight, denim-clad curves. Kayla had always had a nice body, soft and curvy, comforting. There was no doubt that time had only enhanced it as she matured. She still had curves but she was leaner now, her body toned and tight. It was the body of someone who worked out, who stayed in shape—maybe a little too much.

She straightened and motioned wildly with one hand, drawing more laughter from the guys surrounding her. He recognized a few of the faces from his brief visit the other night and he wondered if everyone at the table worked with her. Not that it was any of his business, he told himself.

The gap he had been watching her through filled with people when the jukebox kicked on. The first strands of music were lost in the noise of the crowd before the volume was turned up. Nick's stomach tilted when he recognized the old slow song and he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Kayla to see her reaction.

She was sitting now, the chair tilted back against the wall, her arms wrapped around her middle and a frown on her pale face. Someone leaned over and said something to her; she seemed to shake herself and forced a smile before downing the shot she had been given.

Nick tossed back the remainder of his soda and hesitated. He wanted to go over to her, to talk to her. The saner part of him told him that to do so would be the same as ramming a serrated knife into his gut and twisting. Repeatedly.

Without realizing he had made the decision, Nick pushed through the crowd, not stopping until he reached the table. A second went by before one or two of the men noticed him, another second before Kayla seemed to sense the change around her and slowly looked up. Glassy green eyes finally met his, unfocused at first, then full of emotion that was quickly hidden behind a cool glare.

Pain ripped through him. And regret. He knew she hadn't meant for him to see, that she'd be horrified if she realized it. But in that split-second when she first looked up at him, before she had a chance to put on that cool detached mask, Nick had glimpsed sorrow and longing in the dark green depths of her eyes. He swallowed against the silent accusation that was now being thrown his way.
You did this to me
, the look seemed to say. And he had. Ten years ago when one reckless night changed their lives forever.

"What do you want, Lansing?" Her voice was cold, unwelcoming, and Nick inwardly flinched. Had he really expected a warm reception? Could he really blame her for how she obviously felt?

Several pairs of eyes were focused on him and he squirmed under the scrutiny, wondering if any of them knew. Probably not, or the looks would be more hostile. He cleared his throat and turned back to Kayla, who was busy downing another shot. She shook her head and exhaled a breathy sigh, slamming the glass on the table and motioning for a refill. The bottle was barely half-full. Hadn't it been a new bottle when the barmaid gave it to Jay? He couldn't remember, didn't want to think it had been, not when he was wondering how many shots she had downed in such a short amount of time.

"I was wondering if you wanted to dance," he finally asked, motioning to the floor behind him. He wasn't surprised when she forced a laugh and promptly told him to go to hell.

"Go on, Mike, go dance."

"Yeah, go have some fun."

The phrases of encouragement coming from her friends startled Nick, but apparently not as much as they startled Kayla. She looked around the table in horror, her eyes narrowing on the nearest victim, who happened to be Jay.

"I. Do not. Want. To dance." The words were short and clipped, uttered through clenched teeth. She let out a quick breath, looked up at Nick, then back at Jay. "Especially with
him
."

"Mike, go dance," Jay ordered, pushing the shot glass out of her reach. "Maybe it'll sober you up some."

"I am not dancing with him. And I don't want to be sober!" Kayla leaned across Jay and tried to rescue the glass from his grip, only to tilt forward and nearly fall into his lap. Nick instinctively reached past Jay to catch her, grabbing her by the shoulders in a gentle grip.

It was the wrong thing to do.

Kayla stiffened at his touch, freezing for a split-second before throwing his hands off her and suddenly swinging out at him. Nick stumbled back as Jay caught her flailing arm with both hands. She shook her hair out of her face but made no other move, allowing Jay to push her back into the seat as she glared at Nick.

Surprised glances were shared around the table as the men with her looked first at Nick then at Kayla. The accompanying silence was strained, made more so because of the music and noise that continued around them. Jay rested a hand on Kayla's shoulder and nudged her until she looked at him.

"Mike, what is with you? All he asked was for you to dance."

Kayla hung her head, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle once more. "Just tell him to get lost."

Nick remained rooted to the spot, pity and guilt filling him as he watched the sudden change in her. No longer fiery or defiant, she looked lost, defeated. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was responsible—no, he
knew
he was responsible. There was no question or doubt about that. He should leave, should just walk away and pretend she wasn't here, pretend he didn't know her. But he couldn't. He didn't know why, knew it was irrational, but he couldn't leave, not yet. Not without saying something. "Kayla—"

"Go away!"

"Mike, calm down. Jesus. What is wrong with you?" Jay asked, watching her in astonishment. She uttered a short laugh that sounded forced and faced Nick, pinning him with a look of hatred so clear it sliced him, deep and quick.

"Wrong with me? Why don't you ask him? He's the son of a bitch who almost killed me!"

"So are you going to talk about it?"

Mike took a gulp from the plastic bottle in her hand and swished warm water through her mouth before leaning over and spitting it out. The sudden motion made the ground under her feet tilt at an odd angle and she reeled sideways, catching herself against the dumpster. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus on Jay's question.

"Talk 'bout what?"

"About tonight."

"Nothin' to talk about," she muttered, resting her forehead against the side of the dumpster. The metal was rough on her skin but cool. Cooler than her skin, anyway. Her stomach rolled and she swallowed several times in an effort to calm it, taking a deep breath when it cooperated. For now.

"How can you say that? Christ, Mikey, you're close to tossing cookies with your head in a dumpster!"

"My head…is not…in the dumpster." Mike took another deep breath and straightened, carefully easing her eyes open. She turned her head and squinted at the unfocused blur leaning against her Jeep. "Let it go."

The blur moved, motioning in her direction and making her head spin again. "I'm not going to let it go. What was that all about earlier? I've never seen you like that before."

"Jay, please. Just, take me home. Please." She hated the begging whine in her voice but didn't really care at this point. Tomorrow she'd kick herself for it, but tonight she just wanted to go home.

"What are you going to do about that guy Nick?"

"Huh? Nothing." Mike pushed away from the dumpster and lurched toward the Jeep, stumbling blindly until Jay placed a steadying hand under her elbow.

"You're going to have to do something, Mike, because I don't think he's going to go away."

"Sure he will. Always does. It's his specialty." She climbed over the front seat, muttering under her breath when her knee banged the stick shift before she rolled into the passenger seat. Her stomach tilted again and she closed her eyes, resting her head against the roll bar.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't look like he's going away to me."

"Huh?" Mike pried one eye open and squinted at Jay, who pointed at something over her shoulder. With careful effort she slowly turned her head and tried to focus. No good. The outside security light was too bright, making her vision swim. A darker blur wavered in the light and she squinted again, trying to make it out. Still no good. Letting out a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.

"Mike? Mike! C'mon, wake up."

"Uh-uh."

"Mike, you have company."

"Hm. Uh-uh."

"Is she alright?" The question came from somewhere to her right and the voice didn't belong to Jay. She tried to open her eyes, wanted to see if she was imagining the voice, but the effort to move hurt too much and she gave up.

"Yeah, she'll be fine."

"She doesn't look fine to me. Does she do this a lot?"

"Enough." There was a pause as the Jeep dipped slightly on the driver's side. Mike swallowed, trying to control her stomach's roll at the motion.

"Are you sure she's okay? She's not going to fall out?" The question was accompanied by another motion to her right, a touch against her shoulder and waist as someone buckled the seat belt around her. She pushed at the strap across her stomach, trying to ease the pressure, then finally cracked one eye open and glared at the figure next to her. Him. Again.

His eyes met hers, full of sorrow and, God help her, pity. She didn't need Nicky Lansing's pity. Or anything else he might try to give her. She cleared her throat and let her eye drift close, searching blindly for the water bottle. "Go away, Nick. You've done enough already."

"Kayla."

She waved a hand in his direction, trying to ignore him, to brush him away as she continued her search for the water. She leaned forward and grimaced as the lap strap pulled tight against her stomach, tried to swallow, to stop the rolling in her stomach as more of the tequila sloshed around, but it was no good. Her will was no match for the alcohol, and neither was her empty stomach. She reached out, groping, unhooking the seatbelt in time to lean over the passenger side so the feeble contents of her stomach would hit the ground instead of the inside of her Jeep.

A deep chuckle from her left told her she would have made it, if Nick Lansing hadn't been in the way.

***

Laughter and music. Loud music. The roar of wind blowing, a scream. Burning rubber as tires squealed and metal twisted. A disembodied face, staring. His face.

Nicky.

Mike woke with a strangled sob and pitched upright, then grabbed her head with both hands before it could topple off. Maybe she'd be better if it did topple off; it would save her from the pain of what promised to be her worse hangover yet.

Head still held firmly between two hands, she rolled sideways on the bed, groaning, and swallowed against the rotten taste in her mouth as memories of the previous night assaulted her memory. Tequila. Yuck. Why had she insisted on drinking the stuff, knowing what it did to her?

The memory of why was too clear, and she groaned again.

"I see you're finally alive. Barely."

Mike peeled open one heavy lid and tried to glare at Jay as he leaned against the railing at the top step of her loft bedroom. The glare wasn't very successful, if his grin was an indication. He strolled into the room, looking relaxed and disgustingly sober and clear-headed. He leaned over and placed a cup of coffee on the nightstand, along with a bottle of ibuprofen. She stared at it for a second then closed her eyes, the effort to move too much.

"What time is it?"

"Oh, almost one o'clock. I was beginning to think you had died when I wasn't looking."

"I'd be better off if I had." Silence settled over the room, broken by the squeak of the bed as Jay sat down next to her. She moved her foot to give him more room, groaning as the bed dipped, thankful it was her head spinning and not her stomach. That had been emptied the night before.

"Mikey, you've got to stop doing this to yourself. I've never seen you as bad as you were last night. It's like you're deliberately trying to self-destruct."

"Not now, Jay."

More silence, then a long sigh. Mike held her breath, waiting for the lecture to start, waiting for the words she damn near knew by heart. But there was nothing but silence, heavy and more damning than any words could be. She opened her eyes and looked up. Jay was staring at her, his gray eyes dark with concern as he sat there in silence.

"So who is this guy Nick?"

It was Mike's turn to sigh. If she could have managed it, she would have hit him, but her whole body felt as if it had been battered and she couldn't make the effort. Instead, she closed her eyes again and pretended to ignore him.

"C'mon, Mike, fess up. Who is he?"

"Nobody." God, she sounded so freaking pitiful, even to herself. No wonder Jay looked so worried.

He grunted his disbelief but said nothing else. The bed dipped again as he shifted and before Mike realized what he was doing, he had pulled the bottom of her shirt up, revealing her stomach and the jagged scar that ran across her right side. "Does he have anything to do with this?"

Mike glared at him then pulled the shirt from his hand and tugged it back down. "You know, people are going to start thinking there's something going on between us if you keep doing shit like that."

"Yeah, right. How long have we known each other? Eight years? It would be like sleeping with my sister."

"Gee, thanks for the compliment. And I really didn't need the visual, either."

"I aim to please. Stop trying to change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject, because there is no subject. Let it go." Mike slowly pushed herself to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain behind her eyes when she moved. She reached out a shaking hand for the coffee, took a long swallow, then fought with the cap on the bottle before dumping out four of them and tossing them back with another gulp of coffee. It was sheer fantasy thinking they'd do anything to help, but at least they wouldn't hurt. Unless you counted the ache of moving.

"So who is he?" Jay's tone of voice said he wasn't going to be put off easily. Mike eased herself back down on the bed and ignored him. "Well?"

"Jay, I love you dearly, but if you don't let it go, I will kill you. Got it?"

More silence. Several minutes ticked by and Mike felt herself drifting off into oblivion, only to be pulled back when Jay roughly lifted her off the bed, causing everything to swim. She bit back a scream and grabbed for him, searching for an anchor in the suddenly spinning world but coming away empty-handed. The bathroom loomed before her and this time she did scream, but not before Jay managed to toss her in the large tub, clothes and all.

Her mouth filled with freezing water when Jay turned on the shower but she could do nothing more than just sit there, letting the cold water rush over her, pasting her clothes to her shivering body. She was too stunned to move, too shocked to do anything but stare up at him. He was leaning over her, careful to stay out of the water spray, pointing a finger at her with a look of steely determination on his face.

"You're going to sit there until you come to your senses. Then you're going to get dressed and come out and tell me what the hell's going on. Got it?" He didn't wait for an answer, just stared at her for another second then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Mike winced as the loud noise pierced her skull. She muttered to herself, choosing a few of the more colorful words in her vocabulary, then turned on the warm water and pulled herself to a standing position while she yanked the shower curtain closed.

She continued her half-hearted swearing as she peeled off the wet clothes and stood under the spray, letting it wash over her, wishing it would wash away the memories as well. How could she even begin to explain Nick? She couldn't. Not to Jay, not to anyone. Hell, she couldn't even explain to herself. Not twelve years ago, not ten years ago. Certainly not now. It hurt too much, dredging up the old memories. Not that she'd ever really forget. Her hand strayed over the roughness of the scar, a jagged tear on otherwise smooth skin. No, she would never be able to completely forget. But she thought she had at least moved on.

Forcing herself to push everything out of her mind, Mike finished her shower and dried off, then pulled on the sweat pants and t-shirt Jay had left in the bathroom for her. The hangover still held her firmly in its grip, but at least she looked a little better. Maybe. She grimaced at the reflection in the mirror, at the pale skin and the shadows under red-rimmed eyes. A walking corpse. That's what the reflection reminded her of.

The comparison was too close, too disturbing. She shook he head, forcing the memories from her mind as she walked out of the bathroom, ready to face Jay.

He was waiting for her downstairs in the living room, sprawled out on the sofa, playing channel roulette with the remote control. She walked by him and pulled it out of his hand, then flopped back on the love seat, groaning at the throbbing in her head. A basketball game blared on the television and Mike snapped it off with the remote, welcoming the silence with a grateful sigh.

The silence was short-lived, as she knew it would be. Jay sat up and stared at her, sighed, then went straight for the kill. "So fess up, Mike. Who is Nick Lansing?"

"Ex-boyfriend. See? Nothing deep, dark, or mysterious."

"You want to tell me something I haven't already figured out? What I want to know is why you react so…I don't even know what to call it. I've never seen you act like that before. So why? Why are you so volatile around him?"

Mike sighed and rested her head against the cushions, wishing she could disappear in the comforting softness. She couldn't, though, so she tried to decide how much to tell Jay. He was her best friend. What did it mean that he didn't know the full history? That she'd never told him. Never told anyone. And she couldn't tell him now; she wasn't ready, didn't think she'd ever be ready.

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and stumbled over the words. "Not just ex, then. I guess you could call him my 'first love'. We didn't part on good terms."

"And?"

"And nothing. Christ Jay, what more do you want?" Mike shifted on the love seat and pushed up on one elbow, watching him. "How would you act if you suddenly saw your first love again after ten years?"

He appeared to consider it for a full minute then smiled a slow, insinuating smile. Mike threw the remote at him in frustration, sparing a brief second of sympathy for whatever woman thought she could reel Jay out of the bachelor pond.

"Yeah, well, I know a lot more now than I did back then." His expression grew serious as he slid to the end of the sofa, leaning closer to her. "Mike, I know there's more to it than that. I've never seen you as bad as you were last night. Are you going to tell me it had nothing to do with him?"

"No, I'm going to tell you it was one big coincidence. Don't read so much into it." Her voice was carefully flat, expressionless. If Jay heard just one nuance of emotion, he would pounce on it, and she didn't want to travel down memory lane. Not today, and certainly not about Nick. She didn't want to think about how he had abandoned her, broke her heart.