Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(25)

She would much rather have taken up permanent residence in the truck, like a hermit crab in a shell. But Fenrir prodded her again, rumbling encouragement. Reluctantly, she climbed out.

Stares stabbed through her like knives. Her legs locked solid, refusing to carry her any further. The world spun around her in a dizzying swirl of yellow uniform pants and black tees. Her pulse roared in her ears. Her mind seemed to disassociate from her body, looking down dispassionately at the scared, awkward woman cringing at the center of a crowd.

Rory’s hand cupped her elbow. It was the barest contact, but it grounded her. Warmth spread through her as if she’d swallowed a shot of whiskey. The threatening roar of impending meltdown receded.

Someone wolf-whistled. Abruptly, she was trying to look through six foot two of firefighter. Rory’s black crew T-shirt clung to the tense muscles of his back. The rest of the squad closed ranks around her as well—Blaise and Cal to the left, Joe and Wystan to the right. Behind her, Fenrir snarled.

At her side, Joe drew himself up to his full, impressive height. He glared down at the man who’d whistled, who shrank back. “Not cool, bro.”

“You bringing your girlfriends back to base now, Joe?” someone else called. “Chief’s going to shit a brick when he finds out.”

“She’s no one’s girlfriend,” Rory growled. “She’s one of us.”

He turned a little, exposing her once again to the barrage of curious eyes. Edith flinched, but let him draw her forward, his solid presence giving her the courage to face the gathered crowd.

“This is Edith Stone,” Rory said to the crew. “I’ve invited her to join A-squad.”

Seth spat to one side. “That little girl?”

“You’re begging me to put you on your ass, Seth,” Blaise said. “Again.”

“That woman,” Rory stressed the word, locking eyes with Seth, “happens to be able to cut line like demons are on her tail. She’s done all the training, and is just one fire away from completing her work book and being fully Type 1 certified.”

“Watch out, Seth,” someone commented from the back of the crowd. “Sounds like she could steal C-squad out from under your nose.”

“I know who’s ass I’d rather follow,” another man put in. Seth scowled as laughter rose around him.

Most of the rest of the hotshots were exchanging glances. There were too many faces for Edith to even begin to try to work out all the various expressions. She couldn’t tell how many of them shared Seth’s hostility. She clenched her fists, forcing her hands to stay still.

A wiry man with shaggy brown hair and a beard that could swallow a mouse stepped forward. “Edith, was it?” he asked in a soft backcountry drawl.

She couldn’t speak with so many people looking at her, but she managed to jerk her chin down in a nod. The man subjected her to a long, considering look before holding out his hand.

“Tanner Brock, B-squad boss.” His palm was rough as granite against her own, but what little she could see of his face was kind. “How’d you impress our boy?”

“Now that,” Joe said, grinning, “is a story that needs a lot of time. And beer. You could say it’s a hare-raising tale.”

“Joe,” Rory said under his breath. “I will pay you to shut up.”

“Words spoken by many.” Wystan sighed. “And as yet, never with any effect.”

“A good story has to run free, Rory.” Blaise’s wicked grin matched Joe’s. “Like a rabbit.”

Tanner’s shaggy head tilted. “I’m sensing this story has something to do with bunnies, and now I’m doubly curious.”

“Hey!” Seth said loudly, drawing attention back to himself. “Tanner, you can’t seriously approve of this. Bad enough he’s pulled in all his rookie English engine buddies. Now he’s hiring some random chick off the street?”

Callum treated Seth to the flattest of stares. “I’m Irish.”

“And I was ambulance crew, not fire service,” Wystan said mildly. “Anyway, we found Edith in the forest.”

Seth brushed the corrections away. “Come on, Tanner. This stinks. You gonna let Rory get away with ignoring all the rules yet again?”

Tanner shrugged. “Rory says a body can fight fire, I believe him. Not me he has to convince, anyway.”

“No,” said a new voice. “That would be me.”

There was a sudden mass shuffling, hotshots hastily drawing aside. A man strode through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. He was a good bit older than anyone else, with iron-grey hair and weathered skin, but his shoulders were as broad as any man there. A hawk’s beak of a nose gave him a brooding, predatory look.

Rory held his ground as the man’s glare fell on him. “Chief. You gave me permission to hire whoever I wanted.”

“So I did.” The man folded his muscled arms. “Words which I intended you to take as a mission statement. Not a damn blank check.”

Rory glanced at the fascinated circle of onlookers. He dropped his voice, to the point where Edith was sure only she and the chief could hear him.

“You told me to find who I needed.” Rory’s hand tightened on her elbow. “I need Edith.”

Edith flinched as the man switched his fierce black stare to her. He looked her up and down without speaking for a long, long moment.