Spark & Blaze (A Guns & Hoses Novel) (2 page)

Evan sat in the same seat while the engine returned to the station that he had occupied when they were called out to the scene. He was livid that he had been benched for his first fire and the man who was responsible for his benching sat directly across from him. Brett Malone.

He stared daggers at the man while he looked him over. Malone wasn’t small by any means. His bulk took up the jump seat and Evan knew the man was taller than him by a few inches. It irked him that he had to look up at Malone since Evan was 6’ tall. Evan was used to being taller than almost anyone in the room and so far only Malone and Flame were taller than him at the firehouse.

It wasn’t just Malone’s height that made him fill out the seat. The man was muscular as hell. Thick biceps, a broad chest, and strong thighs made him look like a soot-covered yellow tree trunk.

Evan gave his head a slight shake and lifted his gaze to Malone’s face. Strong Italian features were covered in soot. Malone’s jaw was square with a dimple barely discernible and he had a straight Roman nose. His eyes were closed and Evan would swear he could see the man’s long lashes resting on his cheeks.

What the Fuck?
Evan thought to himself and gave a physical shake.

Brett sensed Carmichael’s movement and opened his eyes. The rookie was frowning at him and Brett returned the favor. He was not the least bit happy about the shit that went down while they were in Shadows. He was even less happy after watching Carmichael run to the Captain.

Brett wasn’t worried about whatever the rookie had said to the captain. He had been with TFD and worked under Captain Stevenson for over three years. The captain knew what type of man he was and knew he was a good firefighter. Whatever Carmichael’s complaint to the captain was, wouldn’t have any impact on Brett’s career.

Brett locked his gaze on the rookie and stared him down until the younger man lowered his eyes and looked away. Carmichael was just as smoke and soot dirty as he, but it wasn’t the rookie’s bunker gear that Brett looked over. No instead, he inspected the man himself. Sandy blond hair that was disheveled and sweaty fell over the rookie’s forehead, but it wasn’t long enough to hide his pale gray eyes. High cheekbones accented an almost perfectly straight nose that sat above Cupid bow lips.

He shifted in his seat, but didn’t stop his appraisal of the rookie. Carmichael was lean and fit, which was no surprise. The bunker gear hid the toned body that Brett refused to acknowledge during this shift and the last.

Unfortunately, his tired mind was acknowledging the memories of what Carmichael looked like in his TFR T-shirt and work pants. Brett shifted again when he felt his cock twitch. He could admit their new firefighter pressed all of his buttons, but those buttons being pressed didn’t mean shit.

He wasn’t out at work. Hell, he never even gave any thought to coming out at work until Flame had and even knowing that his fellow firefighters wouldn’t give a shit, he still kept the closet door at work firmly closed. Plus, getting all hot and bothered over a new rookie was just asking for a backdraft to take him out.

Brett had learned a long time ago to keep work and relationships separate. Even if he thought to cross that line, as far as he knew, Carmichael was straight. Not that he had much to go on since this was only the guy’s second shift. But still.

Straight is good,
Brett thought because he had no interest in straight guys.

The rig pulled into the station and it was way past the end of their shift. All Brett wanted to do was peel out of his bunker gear, shower, get into his Camaro, and go home to crash. Once the engine parked in the bay that was exactly what he did.

Brett opened the door that led out of the station and when he noticed Flame close, held the door for his co-worker.

“Thanks,” Flame said and fell into step with Brett as they walked toward their vehicles in the parking lot.

“Saw that Brostowski stayed behind at the scene,” Brett commented. He knew that Flame and Brostowski were thick as thieves. They had a falling out several months ago, but the best friends were back to being practically attached at the hip.

“His boyfriend, Simon, is a bartender at Shadows,” Flame replied.

Brostowski was gay? What the hell?
Brett was amazed that his step didn’t falter. He had no idea. Flame was out and pulled no punches when it came to his relationship with his partner who was a detective with the Tampa Police Department. Everyone knew that Flame and John were best buds, but no one ever assumed their close friendship had a common denominator that had anything to do with sexual orientation.

“Oh,” Brett said just to fill the silence that was starting to become uncomfortable between them while they walked to their cars.

“Hey man,” Flame glanced at Brett. “You’re cool with me and I wouldn’t have said anything about John if you weren’t, you know?”

Shit
. Flame thought he had gone quiet because he was uncomfortable or had a problem with finding out Brostowski was gay.

Just tell him,
Brett thought, because if he could come out to anyone at work, anyone who would understand the work related closet door that he steadfastly kept closed, it would be Flame. Flame would understand since he had hid behind his own closet door at work since Brett met the man three years ago. Well, until he opened that door several months ago. Still, Brett couldn’t form the words even though he now knew he would have not one, but two co-workers who would understand and with who he could relate.

“Yeah, it’s all good.” Brett gave flame a smile. “You know none of that matters to me.”

“Yeah. That’s why I figured it was safe to tell you the real reason John stayed at the scene.”

“So, Cap okayed it then?” Brett asked, surprised that Captain Stevenson allowed Brostowski to stay behind.

“He’s still down there,” Flame said by way of an answer. “Anyway, I know you always say no when invited, but a few of us are hanging out at Guns & Hoses tomorrow night. You should come out.”

Brett’s automatic denial to the invitation was on the tip of his lips when he found himself replying differently. “That’s where Willis’ bachelor party was, right?”

Flame laughed. “Yeah. I’ve no idea how you’ve been working at this station for almost three years yet have only been to Guns & Hoses once.” Flame stopped by their cars. “I know it’s not because you don’t drink since you downed just as many shots as the rest of us at Willis’ party.”

Brett laughed to hide his uneasiness at the thought Flame might ask where he preferred to hang out instead of the bar popular with the city’s cops and firefighters. Flame was sure to know Bradley’s. Not only know the bar, but know it was a gay bar and admitting that the popular gay bar in Ybor City was usually his haunt when he went out on his nights off was as good as throwing that closet door at work wide open. Yeah. No. So not happening.

“Yeah, I drink. Play pool, too,” Brett admitted and had to push the thought of the last trick he picked up at Bradley’s after he had beaten the guys ass in pool.

“Then you should come to Guns & Hoses. Me and my cousin shoot all the time, but unless you’re a shark like he is, it safer to play Austin for fun unless you want a big ass bar tab.”

Brett gave it some thought and realized he was interested in hanging out with Flame. He couldn’t pinpoint what was different this time, if anything, from the invitation to hang out than all the others since it wasn’t the first time since Flame had come out that the man had invited him to chill at Guns & Hoses.

“All right.” Brett grinned. “I’ll bring my cue. What time?”

“Seven-ish.” Flame turned toward his jacked up F150.

“Sounds good, see you,” Brett replied over the top of his Camaro.

Flame waved by way of reply as he climbed into his truck. Brett started his Camaro and barely spared a glance at the station house door that opened to reveal the rookie heading out.

Evan caught the sight of Malone pulling out of the parking lot in the sweet Camaro he admired the last two shifts. He noticed the emerald green 2011 Camaro SS with the black racing stripes when he arrived at the station for his first shift. It was still in the lot when he left that day and it was already here when he arrived yesterday to start work. Evan never got around to asking his new co-workers who the beauty belonged to, but now he knew. Somehow, he thought he should have known already.

Several of the guys were talking about a bar they all hung out at. Evan laughed at the name: Guns & Hoses. It was a great play on the rock band Guns & Roses. He wondered if the bar was a rock club that just catered to the cops and firefighters.

The guys didn’t invite Evan to join them tomorrow night and he couldn’t say he was surprised. He was sure after he was benched during the fire that they didn’t want a rookie tagging along with them. And if the lack of an invite wasn’t only because he was a rookie and got benched, then it was definitely because he ran straight to the captain to complain about Malone.

They all probably thought he was some whiny ass or worse, some kind of kiss ass snitch. Well, he wasn’t and still felt justified in going to the captain about Malone. Captain Stevenson didn’t agree.

In fact, the captain told him that he didn’t even need to get Malone’s side of the story because Evan was too damn green to know when to save his own ass from becoming a crispy critter. Not only did the captain throw his inexperience in his face, he made sure Evan knew how much more experience Malone had over him.

Evan couldn’t argue that the man was more experienced. He knew that and didn’t need it shoved down his throat. The only saving grace from the captain setting him straight on the experience scale was that the captain’s door was closed and the man’s voice never rose loud enough to be heard in the rest of the station.

Well, now he knew where he stood. As he climbed into his Ford Ranger, he pondered how ostracized he was going to be on his next shift in three days.

Hell of a way to start a new career
, he thought and pulled out of the station’s parking lot.

Chapter Two

Bret
t
walked into Guns & Hoses at a quarter after seven and immediately spotted the guys from the firehouse. Flame spotted him as well while he walked toward the table.

“Hey man, glad you could make it,” Flame greeted and kicked out a chair next to him in an invitation for Brett to sit.

“Thanks.” Brett took the seat and said hello to the rest of the guys.

“So, you weren’t shitting when you said you shoot pool, huh?” Flame nodded at the pool case that Brett leaned against the side of the table. “Austie is going to shit to actually have some real competition.” Flame laughed.

“We’ll see.” Brett chuckled.

He was good, although he didn’t consider himself a pool shark. Hell, he’d been beaten plenty of times by guys who only used bar cues. A cue didn’t mean shit when it came to skill on the table. The only reason Brett had bought a stick was because he was tired of compensating for the usually crooked as shit bar cues.

“What you drinking?”

“Jack and Coke,” Brett answered Flame’s question and Flame stood. “I’ll get it.” Brett pushed up out of his chair and turned toward the bar.

“First one is on me,” Flame called out.

“Sounds good,” Brett replied over his shoulder.

By the time Brett reached the bar, a petite blonde bartender was standing directly across from where he stopped. She was cuter, like someone’s little sister, than pretty and her blue eyes sparkled.

“Hi Hon, I’m Shelley.” The bartender smiled. “You were here for Willis’ bachelor party, weren’t you?”

Brett was caught off guard by her question since the bachelor party had been several months ago. He was surprised the woman not only recognized him and remembered him from the only other time he had been in the bar, but also the occasion that had brought him here.

“I heard Flame say this one was on him,” Shelley continued to smile.

“Yeah,” Brett finally join their conversation.

“I don’t remember what you drink, so what are you having?”

Brett was almost thankful that she didn’t remember his poison of choice. If she had, he was sure the Twilight Zone feeling he was currently having would have soared through the roof.

“Jack and Coke.”

“Coming right up.”

Shelley quickly made his drink and placed it on the bar in front of him. Brett smiled and thanked her before returning back to the table where the guys were laughing at something someone said. The moment Brett’s ass hit the chair, Flame started talking to him.

“You want to warm up before my cousin gets here?” Flame nodded toward the pool table.

“Nah.” Brett grinned. I usually warm up with one or two of these before I hit the table.” Brett lifted his Jack and Coke and took a drink.

Flame laughed again. “I feel you there. Just thought I’d ask.”

They both fell into conversation with their co-workers. Bantering with the guys in Guns & Hoses was just as easy as when they were bullshitting to kill the time between calls at the station.

I should have taken up the invitation to hang out with these guys sooner
, Brett thought when he realized he was having a good time.

Flame returned to the table carrying two beer pitchers in one hand and a Jack and Coke in the other.

“Ready to shoot now?” Flame grinned.

Brett took a sip of his third drink and returned Flame’s grin. He was more than ready to roll some balls around the green felt.

“Sure.” Brett stood and picked up his stick case. “Eight or nine ball?” He asked Flame while they walked over to the table.

Brett could play either, but appreciated the added difficulty that playing nine ball provided. Nine ball was not very popular in bars because the bar tables were only six footer’s. Still, every once in a while he could pick up a game of nine ball in a bar so he thought he would ask.

“Shit, eight ball, man.” Flame squatted to put money in the table. “Why waste all these extra balls.”

Flame pushed in the money tray and the loud clunk of the balls falling into the channel sounded before it was replaced by rolling and the noise of the balls clacking together.

Brett unzipped the end of his case and tilted it to slide his cue out while Flame racked. He was screwing his stick together when Flame lifted the rack off the balls and glanced at him.

A low whistle escaped Flame’s lips before he spoke, “holy shit. Nice stick,” Flame nodded toward Brett’s pool cue.

“Thanks.” Brett laid the cue carefully on the table and made sure he did not disturb the tightly racked balls.

He barely spared a glance at his cue because he was used to seeing it when he played. The wood was the same color as the bar cues, but it was the bottom half of the cue that made most people’s eyes go wide and other billiard players drool. Imitation emerald covered the majority of the larger half of his cue, but on two sides, imitation Onyx broke up the green. The design replicated the color and stripes of his Camaro.

“All right, let’s do this.” Flame was chalking his bar cue while Brett picked up his after chalking his hand.

“We playing for anything?” Brett glanced up from his bent over position to break.

“Hell no!” Flame laughed. “I just want to see if you beat me as bad as Austie does.”

Brett didn’t comment until after he broke and watched three balls drop. Two stripes and one solid.

“You can’t be that bad.”

“I’m not. Austie is just
that
good,” Flame countered.

They played the first game and talked about nothing important. Flame told him a little bit about his cousin, but not much. When Brett dropped the eight ball in a side pocket and Flame only had one ball on the table, he accused Brett of sandbagging.

Brett just grinned because he
did
sandbag. He didn’t do it to save Flame’s ego. No, he was just used to sandbagging most of the time he played because if he wiped the table all the time at Bradley’s, his tricks would be few and far between. In the next game they played, Flame still had three balls on the table when Brett dropped the eight. His fellow firemen wasn’t a bad shot, but Brett was better.

“I still think you’re sandbagging.” Flame grinned and racked the balls again. “Because if that is all you got, Austie is gonna wipe the table with you.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Brett replied without any cockiness.

“Speak of the devil,” Flame said after he stood from racking the balls. He was looking toward the door of the bar “Austie!”

Brett turned to follow Flame’s gaze. Flame’s cousin looked enough like Flame that they could have been brothers. The man was lean, fit, and good-looking as hell. He had jet black hair and looked a few years younger than Flame.

Following half a step behind Flame’s cousin was none other than Lucas Wolf. The arson investigator was an asshole and everyone knew it. When Flame had mentioned that his cousin worked in arson investigation, Brett didn’t even think of Lucas Wolf let alone think the nice guy Flame described could be partnered with that ass wipe.

Poor guy
, Brett thought, but said to Flame instead, “he stuck with that dick head Wolf as a partner?”

Austin and Wolf were making their way over to the table where they were playing pool. Brett was surprised that Wolf was trailing Flame’s cousin instead of heading straight to the bar.

“Nah, he’s not stuck with Wolf, but you have the partner part right.” Flame smirked when Brett almost choked on his drink.

“No fucking way,” Brett mumbled after a couple of coughs to clear his throat.

“Yep,” Flame replied and started toward his cousin. “I didn’t see that one coming either.”

Lucas fucking Wolf, asshole extraordinaire, was gay?

Brett couldn’t believe it. Then again he had no idea Brostowski was either. Brett took another long drink from his Jack and Coke while he watched the three men walk toward him. It wasn’t lost on him that Flame had just enlightened him to the sexual orientation of a second co-worker he knew in as many days.

The brief thought that Flame may have shared the information because the man suspected he was gay and was trying to give him a subtle hint that he wasn’t alone, crossed Brett’s mine. He pushed it away. Now was not the time to ponder any motivations Flame might have for sharing information about Brostowski and Wolf. If, in fact, Flame had any ulterior motivations at all.

Introductions were made and Brett wasn’t surprised that Austin was as outgoing and friendly as Flame had led him to believe. He also wasn’t surprised that Wolf retreated to a seat at the bar after bringing Austin a Corona that Brett noticed was missing the lime shoved down the neck of the bottle.

“Let’s play!” Austin pulled a stick out of the wire stand on the floor in the corner.

“We playing for anything?” Brett asked

He had to resist looking Austin over from head to toe when the question left his mouth. The guy was just his type. Just the type he would play in Bradley’s for blow job stakes. Of course, that type of bet wasn’t about to be laid on the table here and for more than one reason. His closet, Wolf drilling holes into his back, and the fact that this was a straight bar were all good reasons to keep visions of Flame’s cousin on his knees in front of him out of his mind.

“Drinks sound fair to me.” Austin smiled a little too innocently while he chalked his stick.

“Drinks it is, then,” Brett agreed then let his cue stroke through his fingers to slam into the cue ball.

They were evenly matched on the table. Brett had every intention to sandbag the first game, but after Austin had a four ball run on his first turn, Brett ditched the plan and played full out.

Brett was up 3 – 2 and Austin was racking when he leaned his cue in the corner of a chair so it wouldn’t fall.

“Need the restroom,” Brett told Austin who had just dropped the eight in the middle of the rack so that it was sandwiched between two solids. “Be right back.”

“I’ll get us another round.”

Brett didn’t reply when he walked off to the restroom. He did his business, washed his hands, and was heading back into the bar when he spotted a man in a slightly rumpled suit just standing back up from where he was obviously giving Flame a hello kiss. From around the side of his boyfriend, Flame spotted him and called out as he approached.

“Hey Malone, I want you to meet Tig.”

The man finished standing and turned in Brett’s direction. Brett stopped dead in his tracks when he recognized Flame’s boyfriend.

Shit! TPACUFFS
that was the guy’s Grindr handle and Brett later found out he went by T when they hooked up in Bradley’s.
Fuck.
Brett forced himself to start walking toward Flame and T again.
No, Flame said his name was Tig.

The cop clearly recognized him as well and Brett prayed that he wouldn’t acknowledge that their paths had crossed before. Hell, paths that not only crossed, but went down the suck and jerk off road.

The night he had messaged TPACUFFS through Grindr when they both had been in Bradley’s ended up with them at Brett’s place. There wasn’t any actual fucking, but that didn’t stop the bumping and grinding fest that included several blow jobs given and received. It was a night that had them both exhausted by the time the sun came up.

“Good to meet you,” Tig said and stuck out his hand.

Brett shook it and hid the sigh of relief that threatened to escape his lips. There was always the chance that the man didn’t remember their hookup, but Brett knew the thought was just his mind trying to feed him bullshit. The recognition in Flame’s boyfriend’s eyes was too clear and too obvious for Brett to believe otherwise.

Shit,
Brett cursed at himself again and released Tig’s hand.

“You’re looking a little green there, Malone.” Flame laughed. “Too much booze from beating Austin’s ass on the table?”

“Yeah.” Brett forced himself to look at Flame. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Sure thing man, see you next shift.”

“Tell Austin we’ll pick up where we left off on the table.” Brett turned away.

“Will do.”

Brett didn’t remember grabbing his pool cue or cashing out with Shelley. He didn’t remember the drive home either. However, he did remember every detail of the night he spent with Flame’s boyfriend over a year ago.