Consumed (Firefighters #1)(85)

“Where you going?” Moose said from the sofa. “You don’t want to miss this. The mother-in-law is in denial and Phil’s about to serve her a whole lot of reality.”

Moose loved Dr. Phil. Then again, he was probably looking for tips on how to handle his wife.

“I’ma go out back for a sec.”

“You need to stop smoking.”

“Give up your beer first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fuck you,” Moose replied genially.

The back door opened out to the parking area, which was fully fenced in, the crew’s trucks parked against the chain link. No sun, today. Colder.

As he lit up, he leaned back against the bricks and propped the sole of his boot on the side of the building.

When his phone went off, he nearly dropped the cig into his undershorts as he fished it out of his pants pocket. Was it Anne—

Frowning, he nearly let it go into voicemail. “Yeah.”

There was a pause. “Is that any way to speak to me?”

“Deandra, what the hell are you doing on my phone?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” There was a rustle. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

“You gotta stop this.”

“Why.”

“Because you’re married to Moose.” He took a drag. “Come on, Deandra.”

“I told you I wanted it to be you.”

“It never will be. And I’m not answering anymore, ’kay? We’re done with this bullshit—”

“Why, because you’re with Anne?”

“No, because you’re not my type.”

“I used to be.” That voice dropped into the phonesex-operator octave. “You know you liked it with me. You know you want me, Danny—”

Moose put his head out the door. “Yo, Captain Baker wants us to review Friday’s apartment fire.”

“Coming.”

Deandra cut in. “I can make you come. You remember, Danny?”

As Moose ducked back into the stationhouse, Danny had really fucking had it with the two of them. “Don’t call me anymore. If you do, I’ll have to tell your husband.”

“Tell him. I don’t give a fuck. I’m tired of that house out in the sticks, I’m tired of him, the whole thing was a fucking mistake.”

“Then fix your own damn mess, I got more than enough of my own to work on.”

“She’s never going to be with you, Danny.” That cruel edge he knew so well sharped the corners on all those consonants. “She’s never going to want you the way I do. She knows the truth about you and it turns her off.”

“Says the woman with fake tits. Forgive me if I don’t look to you for authenticity. Don’t call me again or you won’t like where it takes you.”

“Two can play at that game.”

“I’ve got less to lose than you do, sweetheart.”

As he hung up, he banged his head back against the building. Deandra was a road that he should never have gone down. The hook up had been a classic across-the-bar kind of thing. Sol had just been killed, he’d been sure that he didn’t have a chance with Anne, and he’d taken up the offer that had been so emphatically presented to him.

As far as he’d been concerned it was a one-nighter, an over-and-done-with-the-sun. Deandra had disagreed with that assessment and had come by the apartment at all hours of the day and night. Seeing a lady in distress, Moose had stepped into void, first as counselor then as a willing piece of gym equipment that the woman had ridden to much vocalizing effect.

Danny hadn’t bothered to point out what seemed obvious to everyone but Moose. Then again, the guy had needed a “win.” After he’d had a rough time in the foster care system, he’d barely graduated from college, had failed at SWAT, and compared to Danny, Jack, and Mitch, had always been the Michael Anthony instead of the Eddie Van Halen or David Lee Roth. George Harrison rather than John, Paul or Ringo.

The store brand, not the name brand.

Deandra had taken things way further than anyone had expected, all the way to that walk down the aisle. And now that she was trapped with Moose, she was thrashing in the net she’d thrown over herself. Talk about knowing the truth, though. She wasn’t the type to jump ship until she had another landing pad, so these phone calls were attempts to set up a place. When it didn’t work, she was going move on to someone else.

Which was how she’d wound up with Moose in the first place.





chapter




39



The call Anne had been waiting for didn’t come in until she was packing up to leave her office at the end of the day.

The male voice on the other end of her desk phone was brisk and efficient. “I’m calling from traffic enforcement. You’re seeking access to camera feeds down at the wharf?”

She sat back down in her chair. “Yes. I have the dates—do you want me to send them to you?”

“We’ve got a form I can email you? It takes two weeks to process.”

“Two weeks?” She looked over at Soot, who was curled up in his crate. “Is there any way to get it faster?”

“That’s for subpoena.”

“I’m working six fires, and there were at least two deaths. I’m really trying to get through all this.”