The Heat Is On (Boston Five Book 1) (21 page)

Shane waved a dismissive hand. “No need. When I think of your babbling last night, I really wouldn’t want to be in your skin.”

Heath looked up, suddenly tense and insecure. “What did I say?”

His brother studied him, thoughtful and silent. Then he placed his coffee on the table. “Do you know why I didn’t talk to you after Dad died?”

Heath wasn’t ready for a conversation about it all. The way he felt at the moment, he couldn’t argue with his brother about his father’s death.

“Heath?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he sighed, facing Shane. “You think Dad’s death was my fault.”

“That’s bullshit.” Shane frowned as if that was a completely absurd thought. “Of course it wasn’t your fault.”

Heath ground his teeth, suddenly feeling angry again. “Then why didn’t you say so?”

“Because everyone else did! Heath, you are a pigheaded idiot who doesn’t need to be coddled by Mom, by Hayden, by Kayleigh, and by every single goddamn fireman in your department. Can’t you see what it’s done to you? Everyone treaded on eggshells around you, and that’s only made it worse …”

Shane’s strange psychology didn’t seem at all logical to Heath, so he snorted loudly. “You could have told me it wasn’t my fault! You’re my brother! You put me through hell!”

“You put yourself through hell,” Shane objected immediately. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “You know full well that Dad’s death had nothing to do with you.”

Heath swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Did you have to wait three months to tell me that?”

His brother actually rolled his eyes. “You’re a Fitzpatrick, not a whining sissy. If you don’t like your situation, or if you think someone is treating you unfairly, you fucking tell them. You don’t hide and sulk the way you’ve been doing the last few months.”

“But—”

“For three months I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses and beat me up. I’ve been waiting for you to get sick of the silent treatment. Jesus, you’re so bullheaded!”

Heath should have waited and let that sink in, but the relief at having his brother back was stronger. “They suspended me three days ago,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Shane said lightly. “Kyle asked me to talk to you.”

“Which you didn’t.”

Shane shrugged. “True. But I’m doing it now.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Let me ask you a question instead.” Ever the pragmatist, Shane asked, “Do you like being a fireman?”

“You know the answer to that.” Heath inhaled deeply. “Of course I do.”

“Do you want to do anything else?”

“No.”

Shane tilted his head to one side, raised an eyebrow, and smiled dryly. “Then all you can do is drag your sorry ass to that psychologist, tell him you’re fine, apart from the fact that your brother has a far bigger package than you, and then march back to your gang and play the hero again.”

“Since when do you give sermons?” Heath asked grumpily.

“Since you started acting like an asshole.” Shane leaned back in his chair and balanced it on two legs. “And then you need to apologize to Hayden and get on your knees to thank her for taking you back with her usual patience and graciousness.”

Heath closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Bullshit.” Shane snorted. “I don’t know anybody who’s as understanding as Hayden. For months, I’ve been telling her that you’re a stupid prick, but she defended you every time. Of course she’ll take you back.”

“No, she won’t.”

“Listen.” Shane leaned forward, brows knitting together. “There’s nothing going on between her and Alec. They only went out for dinner once, and that was at his insistence.”

Heath’s eyes immediately lit up with unholy anger, and he forgot that his hand felt as if it had been beaten with a meat mallet. He punched his brother in the chest.

“Ouch!”

“What the hell were you thinking, hooking her up with a cop? With a cop, for God’s sake!”

“Hey,” Shane complained, rubbing his chest and glaring at Heath. “I didn’t hook her up with anyone! I actually told Alec to keep his hands off her, because she’s your woman.”

“A cop!” Heath still couldn’t believe Hayden had gone out with a cop, of all people. “Jesus Christ, Shane! I break up with her in order to protect her, and then you introduce her to a cop! Are you fucking insane?”

“It seems to me that you’re the one who’s insane,” his brother said slowly and darkly. “Did you just say you broke up with her to protect her?”

“Yes!” Heath started to sweat, tense all over. “Of course I did!”

Shane donned the mask of a soothing policeman who needs to calm a dangerous criminal. He nodded slowly before asking, “What kind of drugs do they dispense at the firehouse?”

“Do you think this is funny?”

“No, but you’re a real clown.”

“God.” Heath tore at his hair. “You’re a cop, Shane! You investigate homicides … murders! Any lunatic could shoot a bullet between your eyes!”

“Thank you for your concern.”

Heath didn’t reply, but stood and lumbered through the room, pacing furiously. “You could leave the house in the morning and never return. What then?”

“If you’re trying to tell me I should find another career, it’s a little late for that.”

Heath continued to pace, suppressing the urge to puke into his brother’s potted fern, and gesticulated wildly. “Cops and firefighters live a dangerous life. Anything can happen, at any moment. Just like with Dad!”

“Now you’re just borrowing trouble!”

“Hyden hates guns,” Heath murmured, as if he hadn’t even heard Shane. “I wanted to be a policeman, too.”

“What?” Shane blinked at him. “What are you talking about? You’ve always wanted to be a fireman!”

Heath shook his head brusquely. “Grandpa took me to the shooting range once, near the end of high school. For a few days after that, I thought about joining the police force. But … Hayden hates guns. I couldn’t have burdened her like that, not after her dad was shot.”

Dumbfounded, Shane crossed his arms. “I’m confused. You broke up with Hayden to protect her. You decided not to become a policeman because she hates guns. And you don’t want her to go out with a cop. Have I summed it all up correctly?”

“Yes!”

“Do you have any idea how paranoid that sounds? Is there some corrupt cop on your heels, or some drug dealer? Why do you think you need to protect Hayden from yourself? I really don’t get it.”

“I don’t want to protect her from
me
,” he growled. “Hayden’s father was a fireman, and he died on duty. Dad was like her surrogate father, and he also died on active duty. Am I supposed to risk making her a widow? What if something happens to me on a call, too? I can’t risk subjecting her to the same tragedy for the third time in her life, Shane!”

His brother was silent, merely studying him thoughtfully. So Heath raged on. “And now she goes out with a cop! With
a cop
!” He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “Someone up there must be screwing with me!”

“I think you’re in the process of screwing yourself, Heath, and you better stop right now.” Shane sounded unbelievably calm as he stood and patted Heath on the back. “Let me be straight with you. It’s my job as your brother.”

“You’re doing a hack job, if you ask me,” Heath grumbled, squirming under Shane’s touch. “And your psychology is a bunch of baloney.”

Shane nodded in agreement. “That’s why I suggest you follow your chief’s instructions and make an appointment with a real shrink. With Hayden.”

Heath scoffed.

“You’re about to fuck up your entire life,” Shane said carefully. “And despite the fact that you can be a major pain in the ass, you’re still my brother.”

Heath grumbled something unintelligible.

“Come on. I’ll treat you to a late breakfast, and you tell me what you’re going to do about Hayden.”

“But I don’t want to—”

“Oh yes you do,” Shane cut in impatiently. “And I’m not giving up the best future sister-in-law in the world. That woman can cook!”

Chapter 13

Hayden was in the middle of thoroughly cleaning her house. The realtor had called to ask if he could bring people by for a spontaneous showing. She had to work to suppress the awful feeling engendered by the idea of selling her house to some stranger. She loved this house! But after her encounter with Heath two days before, she knew she had to severe some important ties. When the doorbell rang, she was still deep in thought.

She didn’t want to lose the house, but she simply had to give it up.

She also didn’t want to move away and start over in another town, but it seemed as if she didn’t have a choice.

Feeling dejected, she threw the dirty rag into the cleaning bucket, picked up the spray bottle of Windex, and headed for the small mirror in the hall. When the doorbell rang again, she started. Frowning, she glanced at the clock on the wall. The realtor had said they wouldn’t be there for several hours.

But the bell rang a third time, so she pulled it open with a jerk. Someone shoved her backwards.

Hayden was pushed back against the wall of the hall, pinned by a stinking, sweating man.

Justin Miller’s father.

She coughed in surprise and disgust as she inhaled his smell of cigarettes and gin. His face was shiny with sweat and red with anger. He looked fit to murder.

“Mr. … Mr. Miller …”

“You! You’ve taken the children away from me—and my wife!” He rammed his fist into the wall next to her head. The mirror she’d been about to clean only a minute before fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand tiny shards. Fear constricted her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“I … I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to slide along the wall and out of his reach. “Really—”

“Shut up!” He thwarted her attempt to get away by grabbing her arm, hard, and shaking her so violently her teeth rattled. “You called the authorities on us! They took our kids away!”

“Mr. Miller. Please. Please let g-go of me.”

“You sick bitch!” He shook her again, and the back of her head hit the wall, making her see stars for a moment. “You’re going to regret this! Nobody’s taking my kids away from me!”

Oh God
… Hayden gasped for air, and the tears welled in her eyes from the sharp pain at the back of her head. Panicking, she tried to come up with ways to defend herself, but then her hip hit the corner of the old hall table, and the pain took the wind out of her again. She was paralyzed with fear, her right hand desperately clutching the spray bottle …

Without thinking, she raised her hand and sprayed the glass cleaner into the man’s bloodshot eyes. His yell of pain was deafening, but Hayden wasn’t fazed. He doubled over and let go of her arm to claw at his eyes.

She seized the opportunity to kick him in the crotch with all the strength she could muster. She was rewarded with a frightening howl, and then he collapsed on her rug. Instinct told her to run to the phone and call the police, but suddenly, an irrational and unfamiliar anger welled up within her. He had toppled over the cleaning bucket when he fell, and now the dirty water was spreading across her beautiful wooden floor, splashes dotting the ivory-colored wall. For a brief moment, she couldn’t move. But then she snapped.

“Asshole!” she screamed, hitting him over the head with the half-empty spray bottle, regretting that it was made of plastic. “You ruined my floor! There are people coming to buy my house!”

“Help!” the man whimpered, clutching his testicles. “Call the police!”

“Oh yes, I will call the police, you cowardly bastard!” Hayden stepped over his prostate form, considering kicking him another time.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

It should have been downright funny, but Hayden was not in the mood to appreciate a joke. Feeling suddenly numb, she grabbed her phone and went out to the front porch, and called the police. As she began to sob, she explained to the operator what had happened and locked the door behind her, so Mr. Miller could not run—if he could even get up after the vicious kick she’d delivered upon him.

A few minutes later, two patrol cars, a civilian car, and an ambulance with the lights flashing converged in front of her house. She was sitting on the porch swing, hugging her legs tightly, probably looking like a sad little girl.

Ryan ran towards her first, his face pale. “We got this report … What happened? Are you okay? Are you injured?”

Crying, she shook her head and pointed to the door. “The f-floor is ruined. And t-the rug, too!”

“Blinding by Windex?”

“It’s not funny at all,” Hayden murmured, allowing Kayleigh to shine a flashlight into her eyes.

“Is that a new discipline? Housewife self-defense?” Ryan tentatively patted Hayden’s back as he stood next to her like a bodyguard. She had to admit it was comforting to have a tall, uniformed policeman around right now. She was still sitting on the porch swing, where Kayleigh was examining her. Her friend had appeared out of thin air, after Ryan and his partner had come rushing over in their patrol car, another one right behind them. Shane had come in his civilian car, and Kyle had been in the ambulance that arrived just after the rest.