New Recruit (13 page)

He stole her scream with his kiss and finger-fucked her into oblivion. For long moments she drifted in a foggy haze of ecstasy, her juices soaking his hand and his flavors on her tongue. She curled into his hold and breathed his scent, feeling the warm muscle of his shoulder alive under her lips.

»»•««

Jagger brushed his fingers beneath his nose and caught Hanna’s sweetness lingering there. He inhaled deeply, unable to focus on anything but her release. Seeing her come apart in the ladder truck would haunt him every single time he went on a call.

He closed his locker with a jolt. When had this developed? He was always so focused on his work. For years, he’d lived and breathed the firehouse. But now he was pouring himself into something—someone—else very worthy.

She was caving. She’d stopped denying that they were going to spend time together. Sure, she still avoided his calls and ran as far as she could from him, but he knew how to find her—and how to reel her right back in.

I know what’s best for her even if she doesn’t yet.
That strong possessive feeling was back, and it had multiplied.

Five feet away, Corey and Weezer were getting into it. Their voices elevated, and in a blink things were out of control. Corey shoved Weezer into the locker. The
bang
brought others into the room.

“Dickhead. How can you think that’s okay?”

Arms crossed, Jagger watched. He had no idea what the argument was about but if he needed to step in, he would. The men were matched in height, weight, and power. Jagger had a few inches on both of them, but he wouldn’t want to tangle with them. When an East Street man was pissed, watch out.

“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked.

“Not sure.”

Just then Corey threw a punch. Weezer ducked it, and Corey halted the momentum of his fist before his knuckles struck the cement block wall. His roar of anger echoed through the building.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” the chief said from the door. His gaze ticked to Jagger, and Jagger lifted his chin in acknowledgement before pulling away from the lockers he leaned on. In one stride he was in the thick of the red-faced firefighters. He stretched his arms between them, but Corey was fast. He squatted beneath his arm and hooked Weezer around the hips.

They went down with a crash, but Jagger stepped between them again, gripped each shirt front, and hauled them up and away from each other. His biceps strained to restrain them.

“Enough! Both of you in my office—now,” Chief barked. “If you can’t walk in there like men, then I’ll have Jagger bring you by force.”

When Jagger looked between the guys, he knew that wouldn’t be necessary. The ire was cooling in their eyes already. He released them by slowly uncurling his fingers. When Corey jerked from his grasp, he smoothed the fist mark on his shirt before stalking after the chief.

After the men left the locker room, Jagger threw Gabriel an amused look. “Wonder what that was about?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out. Everyone knows everyone’s business in here. It’s like a ladies church group.” He shook his head before tugging a fresh T-shirt over his head.

“You’re right. It’s a wonder anybody can fight fires with all this soap opera crap between us. I heard a rumor about you earlier.” He eyed Gabriel.

The man turned and gave Jagger a challenging look. “I heard you fingered Hanna in Ladder Truck 3.”

At that, Jagger threw his head back and laughed. At least they all knew who she belonged to. If he needed to mark his territory with her in every corner and every vehicle in East Street, he’d damn well do it.

“I see you give as many fucks as I do.” Gabriel’s face split with a grin. “You’re on shift?”

“Yeah, till four a.m.”

“Enjoy that. If you get bored, I hear they used a portion of the auction money to purchase some studs to shore up that wall downstairs.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” The late shift always dragged unless they got a call. If he didn’t keep himself busy, he’d be thinking of Hanna too much.

Pulling out his cell, he shot a text to her. After several minutes of no response, he suppressed a groan of frustration and pocketed his phone. Sometimes he wondered if she were really ignoring him or if she was living another life. She could be lying on a bar somewhere in the city while strange men slurped rum off her body. What should he expect when that’s how he’d shouldered his way into her life?

He used the pole to get to the lower level and stomped to the pile of wood lying near the unstable wall. He located the toolbox and set to work. For hours he drove nails and sawed wood to fit areas that needed stabilized. But Hanna never left his thoughts.

The fact that she wasn’t as into him as he was into her kept resurfacing. And that only pissed him off more. A bead of sweat rolled out of his hair into his eye, and he backhanded it away.

She was confusing as hell. When she was in his arms, he believed he was cracking her hard outer shell. But as soon as there was an inch of space between them, she retreated into herself again.

Tightening his lips, he fitted a stud crossways and nailed it into place. His skin prickled a split second before the fire alarm shrieked. Whether the noise had reached his skin before his ears was a possibility, but he chalked it up to instinct.

He dropped the hammer and hit the stairs running for his gear. As soon as he hoisted his suspenders over his shoulders, his cell vibrated.

Hanna.
His heart gave a wild leap. Going into a call with her text fresh in his mind was exactly what he needed after his brooding evening. He yanked his cell out to swipe the screen, ignoring the splinter in his finger from working on the wall.

You got a call?

His heart stuttered. He could nearly hear her sweet voice projecting into his head.
Yes
, he responded rapid-fire. Seconds were ticking. If he didn’t hurry he’d miss his ride and fail his team.

I worry about you.

Her admission was a honeyed balm to his agitated soul. She cared—worried. His throat tightened as he texted back.
I’ll be fine knowing you’re waiting for me when I return. Try to sleep, beautiful.

And then he was hurling on the rest of his gear, making a mad dash for the pole she’d wrapped her sexy thighs around, and jumping into Ladder Truck 3 where he’d swallowed her cry of release hours before.

Yeah, Hanna may not be willing to admit her feelings completely, but she was attached to him. And that was exactly what a man like him needed to know before putting his life on the line.

Hanna’s muscles quivered with each move she made. She locked her fingers on the rock hold and glanced upward. Nothing but cliff and sky. She had this in her—she knew it. She could reach the top.

The thrill of victory was exactly what she needed today to balance her spirit. After she’d spend a full night worrying about Jagger battling a five-alarm blaze believed to be arson, she had to find some inner peace, dammit.

She forced her breathing to slow as she executed the next move. Whatever rush she needed she wouldn’t find in a man. At least not forever. Sure, Jagger was too good to be true—for now. But men couldn’t hold that pattern forever. Soon his true colors would shine through, and then she’d be left heartbroken.

Nope. Couldn’t let that happen. She hauled herself upward.

The cliff near the bridge was a huge feat of skill. She’d had her eye on it ever since bungee jumping. People had told her not many inexperienced climbers attempted it.

She’d hooked herself haphazardly but didn’t have the same harness system used on the practice wall. But she’d be all right. She had nothing to lose, and that was half the mental battle.

She climbed.

When she reached one ledge where she could pause and catch her breath, she gazed out over the ocean tributary cutting through the land and the city beyond. The cars on the bridge seemed so small from this perspective. This was exactly what she’d needed today. Clarity.

Life was short, and she wasn’t about to waste it on heartache. She’d spent enough time pondering that nonsense. There was so much more in the world than silly relationships.

Then why couldn’t she get Jagger’s handsome face and crooked smile out of her head? She shook herself and stretched to reach the next hold.

The rock crumbled away beneath her hand, and she floundered for a grip. Her belly swooped as she righted herself.

Panting, muscles quaking now, she searched for another hold. Right, left, up. There was nothing. And the one thing the bungee company guy had said to her shook her to her core.

Once you’re on that cliff, there’s no going down. It’s up or nothing.

She looked down and understood what he meant now. Sure, she might get footing on the last spot she’d placed her foot. But without a place for her hands, she’d plummet and be crushed on the cliff face.

Her heart beat frantically.
Think. There must be a way out.

Again she looked upward but the closest hand hold was too far. She stood on tiptoe, reaching. If she could wrap her fingertips around the rock, maybe…

A grunt of anger left her. Then another. How stupid could she be to come up here alone? She hadn’t been thinking about anything but escaping her emotions for Jagger. This time, running had just gotten her into trouble instead of out. Maybe part of her had purposely put herself in danger just as he did. Whatever her reasoning, she was screwed.

She was far up the rock face without hope of climbing up or down. There was only one way out. She reached into the waist pouch she wore and pushed aside a power bar to get to her cell phone.

»»•««

“She’s where?” Gabriel kept pace with Jagger as he ran for the biggest ladder truck they had. He only hoped she wasn’t higher than a fucking skyscraper. Jesus, what had she been thinking? She didn’t need to prove she was a badass when it came to thrill-seeking. She had the title.

In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a way for her to run from him. His gut told him it might be.

Well, she’d run so far and so high that she’d put her life on the line. “Goddammit,” he growled as Weezer slid into the driver’s seat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I know this is your woman, Jagger, but you can’t singlehandedly save her. We’re a team. Now get your ass in the back and try to get a grip. Gabriel, make sure he stays in line.”

The engine started and more of his crew jumped into the truck. The bay doors opened, and then they barreled out of the firehouse and into the city streets. Several people tried to talk to him about Hanna being in peril, but he shook off their words. He needed focus—on her. She was all that mattered.

And she’d put herself in danger. Didn’t she know what he felt for her? That if he lost her, he’d never be able to forget about her? He needed to get her safely off that cliff and then he was damn well going to get a commitment from her. She belonged to him—no more questioning it.

He pressed his lips into a firm line and tried to picture her on that cliff face. He’d heard tales of other people attempting to scale it. Only a few experts had succeeded, and most of it was Evil Knievel stunt stuff. People climbing the highest face in order to hit the record books. And Hanna had done it why?

This was the last time she put herself in danger. He couldn’t lose her.

As the truck careened around corners and the city streets fell away, he tensed. Leaning forward, he peered out the big windshield at the bridge ahead. The cliff wasn’t yet in sight, but he’d have no control over his reaction when he saw her small and delicate body high above the river.

“I see her,” Weezer said.

The radio blasted as other trucks got eyes on their victim.

“Get me there faster, Weez. I’m the one who gets her down. No one else.” His tone brooked no argument, and Weezer stomped on the gas. In seconds they’d crossed the long bridge. The dirt access road leading down to the basin of the valley was already clogged with vehicles. Paramedics, rescue units, and even a TV news van.

“Get them the fuck outta here,” Jagger growled. He could hear it now—reporters asking if she’d climbed up there with intentions to jump.

“Easy, Jag. You’ll get her down. Just stay calm.” Corey’s support couldn’t have come at a better time. He sucked in a harsh breath and nodded.

When he looked up at the towering height where Hanna clung, his heart spasmed. God, what if she did fall? What if her muscles were just so exhausted that they gave out and she tumbled off right before his eyes?

“Faster, Weezer.” He glanced his knuckles off the driver’s seat, rocking his buddy.

“Trying, Jag. Don’t make me lock your ass in the truck while Firehouse 9 rescues her,” Corey said, sounding positively cheerful at the thought.

“You can’t do that.”

“I’ve got seniority on you, rookie. Now get hold of yourself. You know this goes against policy, letting you rescue a loved one. But Chief’s not with us right now and I’m willing to make an exception as long as you prove you can handle this.”

For five full heartbeats, he questioned whether or not he really could hold himself together. His mind was scattered—nowhere near his normal focus on the job. And his palms were sweaty, which never happened. What if he got up there and she slipped from his grasp?

I’ll have on my gloves. I’d never let her fall.

He gulped a breath. “I got this.”

“Good.”

Weezer braked hard, sending them all jerking forward. Before the crew had rocked back from the momentum, Jagger was out of the truck and yelling for the ladder. The next few minutes were a blur. Whenever he looked up and saw Hanna, the earth seemed to fall out from under his feet.

He drew deep breaths of air to calm himself, but he was about to snap. The longer they took to extend the ladder, the longer she was up there in peril.

“Set to go, rookie. Keep your eyes up. It’s a long way.”

It was. The ladder he was about to climb could reach the highest building in the city. When he thought of Hanna up there, and without a safety system, he clenched his fists. As soon as he got her alone, he was going to turn her over his knee and spank her for being so reckless with the one thing he’d come to prize over everything else.