Consumed (Firefighters #1)(107)

Anne jerked around. Moose was staggering out of the house, his shirt stained with blood, a gash on his face, one foot trailing behind.

He looked tired. Frustrated. Exhausted. A stranger wearing the mask and body of the friend and colleague she had once known and loved like a friend.

“Moose,” she breathed. “What the hell are you doing?”

The guy stopped and looked down at himself. “I crashed the Charger. It’s somewhere in the woods. I was chasing Deandra off. And then I kept drinking.”

“No, about this.” She pointed the trailer. “What are you doing with Ripkin?”

He threw up his hands—and that was when she saw the small black box in his right palm. “What was I supposed to do? I need the money. Deandra is expensive. Was.”

“Did you kill her?”

“What—no. I kicked her out. She’s at her sister’s. We’re done.” His bloodshot eyes finally focused properly. “But now, I gotta deal with you. I’m not going to jail, Anne. I can’t.”

She took a step back and raised her gun at him. “Don’t come near me.”

“Is this where you arrest me?”

“You killed people. You put the lives of your own crew in danger. You did this all while you were in turnouts.”

“Don’t get judgy with me, Anne,” he bit out. “You’re the sister of the fucking fire chief. Your life is all worked out. I got nothing. Nothing! My own parents didn’t want me. I barely graduated from college. I couldn’t make the SWAT team. Deandra didn’t even want me, she wanted Danny!”

Her eyes flicked down to what he had in his hand. The antenna gave it away—and she did the math quick.

Moving away from the trailer, she triangulated the distance to her car. “Look, Moose, I don’t have to turn you in, okay? We can just forget—”

“No, I know you. I fought fires with you for how long? You’re lying because you think I’m going to kill you and you’re right. I’m not picking you over me. Sorry.”

The explosion was instantaneous, triggered as he initiated some button on that remote, the force of the blast throwing her off her feet and carrying her some distance through the air. When she landed on her back, the breath was knocked out her and the gun flipped out of her hand.

All she could do was stare up at the blue, cloudless sky.

Moose’s face came over her own. “You know, I liked you, I really did.” He brought up her own gun. “And I’ll do this quick and easy so you won’t hurt—”

The gray flash came out of nowhere, whatever it was moving so fast, it was just a blur.

But Soot knew what he was doing. He launched his attack at Moose’s forearm, swinging that arm away from Anne, the bullet discharging into the air. Moose let out a curse and started punching the dog in the head.

Not that Soot noticed. Growling, snarling, his muscled body was a weapon in addition to his teeth, and he would not let go as he thrashed.

“Leave my dog alone!”

Anne launched herself at Moose, going for his throat before she realized she didn’t have two working hands. But she had a great weapon.

She took the hard fingers of her prosthesis and speared Moose in the eyes.

He screamed and went onto his back.

For a moment, she was convinced they had won. But then a boot came at her head and she couldn’t duck in time. The heavy tread caught her right in the face, blood spooling out of her nose as she spun like a top.

And then there was a yelp and whimper from Soot.





chapter




52



Danny drove up to the front of Moose’s cocksucking ranch and slammed the brakes on the truck so hard, he kicked up gravel. The bastard’s yellow Charger wasn’t around, but there were pink clothes and high-heeled shoes all over the front lawn. He knew Moose was home, however. Vic Rizzo from the 617 had texted everyone that after a drinking spell at Timeout: that muscle car had been found wrapped around a tree by two NBPD-ers and its inebriated driver had been returned to sender out here in the sticks.

Getting out, he—

The explosion was so violent, it rattled the windows on the house, and Danny ducked down to take cover as shrapnel dropped from the sky.

As a phone receiver hit him in the head, he cursed and jogged over to the front door. Going inside, he saw total chaos. Someone had taken a knife to all the oversized black and white furniture, and there was stuffing and pillows everywhere.

Every single one of the wedding pictures had been punched, bloody fist and palm prints marking the walls.

Danny ran to the back. Outside, by the garage, the box trailer was in flames, the curling smoke blowing toward the house and obscuring the view.

“Moose?” he called out.

Running toward the garage, he got smoke in his eyes and he coughed.

And then he saw something on the lawn behind the fire. People rolling around. Something else out there.

Was he killing Deandra?

“Moose, will you stop! We weren’t together, she’s lyin—”

Off at the tree line, parked at the head of a dirt lane about one hundred yards away, was Anne’s Subaru. What the hell?

He sidestepped the heat and the crackling burn, coming around the front of the garage. As the smoke got blown in another direction, he got a clear view of something that made no sense. Anne and Moose were rolling around, fighting. Soot was on the periphery, barking, snarling, limping badly like he’d been hurt.