Playing With Fire (Firehouse Fourteen Book 2) (14 page)

And wondered if she had the strength and courage to do the right thing.

Jay tossed the towel over the shower rod and grabbed his pants, pulling them on and working the zipper as he walked out of the bathroom. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was too early for Angie to be here, and he wondered who else would be knocking at the door.

Or maybe Angie was early.

He felt a grin tilt the corners of his mouth and decided not to mess with the button of his jeans. Of course, he'd feel like an ass if it wasn't Angie, but still.

He pulled the door open and his grin turned into a full smile when he saw Angie standing there. Her eyes dropped to his bare chest then lower, and he felt a moment of uncharacteristic ego and pride that just looking at him could bring a flush to her face.

Of course, he wasn't immune to her gaze, and felt some of the blood rush south as she looked him over.

He didn't say anything, just grabbed her hand and pulled her inside and against him for a long heated kiss. His cock was fully at attention now and he wondered if he could talk her into going to dinner late.

Considering she was early and all.

A second went by before he realized she wasn't pressing herself against him like he was used to, that she was actually pulling away instead. He released his hold on her and let her step back, studying her face.

Dark circles blemished the fragile skin under her eyes and her face was paler than normal. The corners of her mouth were turned down in something not quite a frown. The first inkling that something wasn't right went through him, twisting in his gut. He reached for her hand and led her to the sofa. He sat down next to her, turning so they were facing each other.

"What's wrong?"

"Jay, I..." Her voice drifted off and she looked away, her teeth pulling on her lower lip. She shook her head then took a deep breath, her hair falling forward and hiding her face.

He felt his stomach twist even further and he swallowed, wondering what was going on but afraid to hear, afraid that he already knew. He reached out and pushed the hair back behind her ear, his fingers lingering in the soft strands before he moved his hand away.

"Talk to me Angie. What is it?"

She finally looked up at him. The sheen of moisture in her eyes hit him in the gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. He clenched his jaw against the sensation and didn't move, afraid to breathe, afraid of what he saw in her eyes.

"Jay, I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

The reality was worse than he had imagined. A slice of something sharp and hard tore through his chest but he refused to acknowledge it, refused to give into it. He leaned back and watched her, saw the anguish in her dark brown eyes. He swallowed and shook his head, still not understanding.

Not wanting to understand.

"Do what, Angie? What is it you can't do anymore?"

"This. Us. Everything. I—I just can't, I'm sorry."

Jay was silent for a long time, watching her, praying that this was some kind of twisted joke. He wanted to rewind the last ten minutes and pretend he had never heard the knock on the door. Rewind the last twenty minutes so he could slip in the shower and knock himself unconscious.

Because anything would be better than this. Better than the desolation in her eyes, better than the gut-twisting agony that threatened to double him over in pain. He breathed in through his nose, deep, and held it, trying to settle the rampage of emotions destroying him. But it didn't help. He didn't know if anything would help.

Jay let out the breath and still said nothing, not sure if he could trust his voice to stay calm and level. Another minute went by and he knew he had to speak, had to ask.

"Why?"

Angie shook her head and looked away. He thought there should be some comfort in the turmoil she was so obviously feeling. If there was, he couldn't find it.

"It's...everything. The stress and the tension. The way things are between you and Dave. The way things are at home. I can't do it anymore, I can't. It's not worth it anymore."

A flash of anger burst inside him at her words. "Not worth it? Don't you think maybe I should have a say in if it's worth it or not? Or do you mean it's not worth it to you?"

"No. No, that's not what I meant. Don't you see? I'm responsible for all of it. And none of it would have happened if I hadn't chased after you. Even you said—"

"Angie, I don't care about that. Any of it. I care about you. Can you really sit there and say it's not worth it?"

Her mouth opened then closed again and she said nothing. She watched him with sad, moist eyes then shook her head. "I can't do it anymore, Jay. I'm sorry."

He clenched his jaw and looked away, not knowing what to say. The past few months with Angie had been the longest he had been with anyone for too many years to remember. And he had thought—well, it didn't matter what he thought, not anymore. Unless...

He looked back over at her, trying to reign in the avalanche of emotions that threatened to crush him. "Is there someone else?"

"What? No. God, no." She leaned forward and reached out with one trembling hand and cupped his cheek. Her touched seared his flesh and he nearly pulled away. But he couldn't, he didn't want to. Because damn him, he still wanted her touch. She was destroying something inside him and he still wanted her touch.

"There's nobody else, Jay."

He reached up and covered her hand with his, not knowing what else to say. And no matter what she said, he knew deep down that there was someone else.

Her brother. And her insanely misplaced loyalty to him—and to Jay's old friendship with him. But he didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to tell her that none of that mattered. He didn't know how to convince her that everything would work out regardless.

He only knew that something was shattering deep inside him, tearing him apart, and he didn't know what to do about it.

And still he didn't move, didn't say anything. Just watched her, watched the pain and tears in her eyes. And then he leaned forward, just the barest of movements, until his mouth was suddenly on hers. Soft, tender, hesitant.

He waited, expecting her to push him away. But she softened and pressed her body more tightly against his, a small moan escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered to him.

He knew he should stop, knew that this could only make things worse. But he didn't. He wanted Angie one last time, wanted to make sure she would never forget him, that he would forever be emblazoned in her memory.

He ran his tongue along the closed seal of her lips, groaned when she opened for him and met his tongue with hers. Flames kissed his flesh wherever her hands roamed, along his shoulders and chest, down across his stomach.

To the zipper of his jeans.

Jay shifted as she pulled the zipper down, reached in and grabbed him. He groaned at her touch, pressed himself more fully into her hand. She broke the kiss and pulled back, releasing him. But she didn't stand, didn't leave. Instead, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over head, tossing it to the floor. Her arms reached behind her, unclasping the bra, and the bright lacy material slid down her arms.

He reached out and traced her collarbone with one finger, surprised to see that his hand was trembling. Her head tilted back as he ran his finger down to her breast, tracing its fullness, moving closer to trace the outline of her nipple.

Her hand reached up and closed around his wrist, stopping him. Now she would leave. She would realize what they were doing was wrong, that she didn't want this.

But she didn't leave. She slid off the sofa and undid the snap of her linen capris. Her thumbs hooked into the waistband and she pushed them down past her hips, let them slide to her feet until she stood before him, wondrously bare to his eyes.

Jay's eyes caressed her body, memorizing each curve and indentation, memorizing how the curl of her hair rested over her shoulder and fell against one breast, how her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath and how her body flushed pink under his gaze.

He stood up and pulled her into his arms, claiming her mouth once more, wanting to possess her but knowing he could do no more than taste her this one last time. Then he bent over and wrapped one arm behind her legs and lifted her, carrying her into the bedroom and placing her gently in the middle of the bed.

He pushed his jeans down and kicked them away, then stretched out beside her. Angie's eyes glistened with moisture and he leaned down, kissing each lid with infinite tenderness.

He heard her gasp, felt her chest heave under his, but he didn't stop. He placed light kisses along her face, behind her ear, down her throat.

And when she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, he pushed her away, gently. Long enough to grab a condom from the nightstand and sheath himself. He rolled back over and stretched against her, on top of her, settling his weight between her legs. He braced his weight on his elbows and cupped her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers before he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

And drove himself deep inside her.

She gasped, her breath mingling with his, then raised her legs and wrapped them high around his waist. Her hips thrust against him, seeking, demanding.

But not yet. Not now.

He set the pace, slow, agonizingly slow. He pulled out, then eased back in, over and over, until the sheen of exertion covered both their bodies, until his breathing was as ragged and desperate as Angie's.

And then he felt it, a tight clench around his cock that pulled him even deeper, that threatened to bring him to his knees. Angie's head dropped back, her mouth parted as short gasps turned into moans of need. Her hips thrust, faster, searching, and Jay pulled back, almost pulled out of her, nearly killing himself with the torture.

"Angie, look at me." His voice was harsh, hoarse, ripped from a throat aching with raw emotion.

She shook her head, one tear falling from the corner of her eye.

"Angie, look at me." He begged. He didn't care, he wanted this—needed this—too much to care.

And then she opened her eyes, glazed with passion, filled with emotion. He held her head between his hands and thrust into her, harder, faster.

Deeper.

Demanding.

"Don't ever forget me, Angie."

Her body tightened around his, drawing him in, holding him, caressing him until she exploded around him. And still he wouldn't let her look away, needed to watch her as he found his own release inside her.

She finally turned her head to the side, breaking the contact that joined them together as much as their bodies had been joined. Jay released his breath and lowered himself against her, felt her arms coming up to hold him, her hands stroking his back in small circles.

He didn't know how much time had passed, seconds or minutes, but she stopped touching him and let her arms drop to the side. Coldness settled over him, reaching deep inside and filling him with a chill he didn't think would ever leave him.

He rolled off her, onto his back, and draped one arm over his eyes. He didn't want to see her now, didn't want anything to replace the last image he had of her in his mind.

The bed dipped as she climbed out, not saying anything. Her soft steps crossed the room, moved into the hall. He could hear her gathering her things, getting dressed and straightening up.

Then he heard the door open, the soft click as it closed behind her.

Angie was gone.

The words blurred in front of Jay and he blinked, trying to bring them back into focus. He didn't know why he bothered, though, because he had been reading the same article over and over and couldn't even guess at what it was about.

Reading. Yeah.

He wasn't reading, he was staring into nothing, hoping a numbness would somehow claim him. It hadn't happened in the past three days, why did he think it would happen now?

And the only reason he was still reading the paper—still holding it in front of him—was because he didn't feel like talking. To anyone. And if he got rid of the paper, he'd be expected to join in the conversation.

And that was the last thing he wanted.

Words and phrases drifted into his consciousness and he tried to push them away, tried to ignore the carrying on around him. But it was getting harder to do, harder to pretend that it didn't piss him off.

Because Dave and Jimmy were at the next table, carrying on with Pete and Adam, talking about Dave's sudden mood change.

And laughing about it. The fuckers.

Jay shifted in the hard chair and looked over, clenched his jaw then looked back down at the paper. He felt Mike studying him and he shot her a quick look, catching the question in her eye. Jay shook his head and said nothing.

What could he say?

"Well, whatever the hell it was, I'm glad you snapped out of it. You were becoming a miserable son of a bitch."

Dave laughed, the sound grating on Jay's nerves. "Yeah, I guess. But hey, at least I'm over it, and all is right in the world."

Jay couldn't handle it anymore, not without exploding and doing something he shouldn't. He tossed the paper on the table then stood up, his angry strides eating up the distance until he pushed through the door hard enough that it banged against the wall.

He wanted to hit something,
needed
to hit something. And if he didn't leave, that something would be Dave's smug face.

He turned toward the basement and took the stairs leading down at a jog, hitting the light switch as he turned the corner. He unbuttoned his uniform shirt and threw it over a hook then grabbed a pair of gloves from the shelf.

He didn't worry about lacing them, didn't care about anything except the bag hanging in front of him, daring him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then stepped in close and jabbed. Once, twice.

Over and over, until the bag spun crazily under his assault. And still he didn't stop, just kept pounding it, over and over, until sweat poured down his forehead and stung his eyes.

He tilted his head and wiped his face against his shoulder, then hit the bag again, his aim steady.

Jab. Thwack.

Jab. Thump.

Jab. Jab. Jab.

He stopped, his chest heaving, and rested his forehead against the bag. Dammit. Damn everything.

"Hey, Jay. Mind if we talk?"

Jay stiffened, not believing his ears, knowing he must be imagining things. He turned and blinked the sweat from his eyes, but the image in front of him didn't disappear.

"I have nothing to say to you."

Dave stepped closer, holding one hand out. Jay ignored him and ripped the gloves from his hands, then tossed them back on the shelf. He moved over to the weight bench, intent on ignoring him, but Dave followed, coming closer.

"Listen, I just wanted to apologize for acting like an ass. No hard feelings, right?"

Jay looked down, saw Dave extending his arm. For a handshake? Was he fucking serious?

He stepped back, knowing that he was dangerously close to using Dave as a punching bag, and shook his head.

"Fuck you."

Dave's hand dropped to his side and a look of surprise crossed his face at the cold words. He frowned, studying Jay, not saying anything for a few seconds.

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry, Jay. I don't want this to come between our friendship."

"What? Are you fucking kidding me? You worry about that now? Now?" Jay snapped his mouth closed and took a step back, trying to put distance between them before he really did do something he'd regret.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"How about nothing, okay? You son of a bitch. Where do you come off, coming down here and acting like everything's fine? Like I'm going to forget what you did?"

"What I did? Tell me Jay, what did I do?"

"You went overboard. You want to be pissed we were seeing each other? Fine. I get that. But you went overboard. You treated me like shit, and you put Angie through hell. Well congratulations, you got what you wanted. Now get the hell out of my sight."

"What the hell did you want me to do? You were screwing my little sister! I did what I had to do to protect her!"

Jay ran forward, intent on letting Dave have it, but stopped himself at the last minute. He held his clenched fists down at his side as he struggled to pull deep gulps of air into his lungs.

"I wasn't
screwing
her."

"Don't fucking lie, Jay. I know what I saw that morning, and you're not going to tell me you weren't screwing her."

"Hey, asshole, I wasn't screwing her." Jay repeated, his voice getting louder. "Did you ever to stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I care about her? No, of course you didn't, because you're the only one who matters."

"Bullshit Jay. I've known you for too long, I know how you are. So yeah, I did what I had to."

"What
you
had to do? Seriously? How? By making her miserable? By making her feel guilty? By making her choose between what she wants and what you want? Then congratulations, you just showed her how important she really is to you."

"Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that?"

"I'll talk to you however I want. Now get. The fuck. Out."

"Hey!"

The sharp word shattered the echo of their shouts and Jay stepped back, surprised to realize he was nearly nose to nose with Dave. He shook his head and walked back to the weight bench, not bothering to look at Mike as she stepped between them.

"Unless you two want everyone in the station to know what the hell is going on, both of you need to shut the hell up."

"Mike, this doesn't concern you."

"Maybe not, but that's never stopped me before. Both of you are acting like idiots. Jay, you need to calm down."

He turned his head and stared at her like she was speaking another language, thinking that out of everyone, at least she would have his back. She glared at him, then turned to Dave.

"And you need to think about what Jay said, and what you did, and then ask yourself why the hell you did it."

"You saw him, how he acted! I came down here to apologize—"

"Stop. Just knock it off. Nobody wants to hear you apologize, Dave, not unless you know what the fuck you're apologizing for."

Dave's mouth opened, for another rebuttal, Jay was sure, but he snapped it shut when the medic alarm rang. He shook his head and said nothing, just turned to leave and hurried up the steps.

Jay sank down on the weight bench and dropped his head into his hands, his breathing still heavy and strained. He felt Mike's eyes on him, waited for her to say something, but silence filled the room. She finally sat down next to him, her sigh heavy and depressed.

"I wish I knew what to say, Jay."

"Nothing. There's nothing to say."

She sighed again and leaned her head against his shoulder then straightened with a muttered curse. "Damn, you stink."

Jay laughed, the sound forced and hollow, and raised his head to give her a grateful smile. The smile fell flat, and he saw worry flash in her eyes.

"I'm here for you, buddy, you know that. What can I do for you? What do you need?"

Jay shook his head and looked away, his gaze settling on the concrete floor beneath his boots.

"Time. Just...time."

**

Duffy's was crowded again, the live music bringing in the people and the alcohol helping keep them there. Angie and Rick had been busy all night, aided by Grant, the bar's owner. The extra pair of hands helped, and Angie didn't want to think about how crazy it would be with just two of them.

The downside was that she had more time to think during the rare lull in the rush. She didn't want time to think.

So she made sure to keep busy, including running back to the large walk-in to grab extra cases of beer. She lowered the last one to the counter then leaned over and pushed open the top of the cooler, rotating the bottles before filling it. Then she broke down the empty case and looked up, making sure there were no waiting guests, before letting her eyes search the crowd.

Again.

She tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that filled her and called herself all kinds of stupid. Because even if Jay was here, it's not like she could talk to him.

Not like she would even know what to say to him.

She stacked the empty boxes together then walked to the rear of the bar and placed them on the pile of the other broken down cardboard. Either her or Rick would take them out to the recycle bin later, just before they closed.

Angie made her way back to the front of the bar and took a minute to stretch her back, feeling her tight muscles loosen, if only briefly. She used the chance to search the crowd again, her eyes focusing on the corner table. Everyone else Jay worked with was there, even her brother.

Everyone but Jay.

She sighed and reached for her glass of soda, taking a sip.

"If you're looking for Jay, don't bother. He won't be here tonight."

The voice startled her and Angie nearly dropped the glass in her hand. Her fingers tightened around it and she carefully placed it on the back counter then turned, only partially surprised to see Mike leaning against the bar.

Guilt filled her and she wondered how much the woman knew, wondered how much Jay had told her. "I, uh, wasn't looking for Jay."

The delicate brows arched above clear blue eyes in question. Or maybe it was doubt, Angie didn't know. But the woman didn't say anything, just ordered another round for the group.

She didn't bother with small talk, not knowing what she would say anyway, and busied herself with pulling beer from the cooler. The woman watched her, then turned back to look at her friends at the corner table.

"Your brother looks like he's having fun."

Angie looked up in surprise at the words, then glanced over at the table and felt a small smile form on her face. "Yeah, he is. That's good to see, at least."

"Your brother's an ass."

Angie spun to face the woman, certain her surprise was evident. Surprise, and a flash of irritation at the accusation. "He's not—"

"Really? Maybe, maybe not. I just find it funny that you're over here, looking completely miserable, while he's over there having fun. Makes me wonder what happened, you know?"

Mike watched her for a long minute, her clear eyes seeing too much before she grabbed the tray and stepped away. Angie watched her progress through the crowd, feeling a tinge of jealousy when Nick dropped a kiss on her cheek before moving toward the makeshift stage.

She wondered what it would be like, to be in a relationship like theirs, because it was obvious to even the most casual observer how much they loved each other. Jay had told her a little bit about their story and she knew that it hadn't been easy between them, but they had stuck it out and worked through it.

Guilt washed over her again but she pushed it away. She had done the right thing, she knew she had. There was no more tension between Dave and Jay, no more tension for either of them at work.

And no more tension between her and Dave at home. In fact, it was like the last several months had never happened. No, he hadn't stopped giving her grief about working at the bar but it was no longer a continual battle, and for that she was grateful.

But Mike was right. She was miserable.

And had been since telling Jay goodbye two weeks ago.

How much longer before she didn't feel a stab of pain every time she thought about him? How much longer before she would stop thinking about him?

She reached for her soda and drained it, then refilled it and sat it back on the counter. The band was warming up and the crowd was getting thicker around the bar, the patrons wanting to get one last order in before enjoying the music.

Angie went on auto-pilot, opening bottles and mixing drinks as quickly as Rick and Grant, knocking the lines back with little effort. And once again, Angie's eyes searched the crowd, looking for a head of dark blonde hair and a set of gray eyes.

"Who are you looking for?"

Angie jumped at the voice at her elbow then turned to find Dave watching her. She shook her head, feeling like she had just been caught doing something wrong and not liking the feeling one bit.

"Nobody, just checking out the crowd. Did you need another drink already?"