Kellan hung the last of his gear in the equipment room, finally allowing his muscles to unwind in relief. Considering the flash-bang that had kicked off his tour four days ago, yesterday’s twenty-four-hour shift had been relatively quiet in comparison. Two traffic wrecks, both pretty minor, and three medical assists that were more of the same. Still, a shit show could land in his lap at any time, so Kellan knew better than to let his guard down when he was on the clock at Seventeen.
If his emotions didn’t stay boxed up, things like those photos he’d found Monday morning would fuck with his head. Being cautious, even to the point of toeing the line of mild paranoia, was better than the alternative. Letting your guard down only made you vulnerable, and people who were vulnerable had a way higher chance of breaking.
And there was one thing Kellan knew for damn sure. With everything he’d seen and done, if he broke, there wouldn’t be a chance in hell of putting his ass back together.
“Walker.” Gamble’s voice caught him by the edge of surprise, and hell, for a guy that big, his lieutenant was freakishly sneaky. “You out of here?”
Kellan blanked the momentary ripple of shock from his veins, re-setting his vitals in less than a breath. “Yup.” They’d finished shift change two minutes before he’d come out here to store his gear. Next stop was food, a shower, and bed. In that order. “You?”
“Affirmative,” Gamble said, letting his roots as a Marine show.
“See you tonight at the Crooked Angel?” Kellan asked, shouldering the duffel he’d dropped by his feet. The crew on engine, squad, and ambo embodied the whole work-together/play-together thing pretty much down to the letter. Nearly everyone on Seventeen’s A-shift, along with a few people who worked in the admin offices at the RFD, killed the clock with one another on a regular basis at the local bar. Given that today was Friday and they didn’t have to be back at the fire house until Sunday morning? No way they wouldn’t all gather to blow off some steam.
Gamble lifted a dark brow along with one corner of his mouth. “Fifty bucks says I’ll see you first.”
“Dude.” Kellan conveyed his doubt with a look. No need to say out loud that he’d been a sniper in one of the most active Ranger units in the entire Army. Guys who bragged about their experience were either douchebags or posers, and anyway, he and Gamble had worked together for two years. The lieutenant definitely knew whose thread he was pulling.
But he also didn’t recant, so Kellan worked up a lazy smile. “Okay by me if you want to give me your money.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll see.”
They walked from the equipment room to the engine bay, parting ways with a pair of easy nods and see-ya-laters. Kellan made his way up Washington Boulevard, where he’d parked yesterday morning before shift. Funny how quiet the city could be before things like rush hour and regular workdays kicked in, all soft sunlight and clean storefronts. He slid in a breath of cool air, scanning the sidewalk and the two-lane thoroughfare where Station Seventeen was situated.
He saw the woman leaning against his ’68 Camaro from forty feet away.
Kellan’s pulse flared even though his footsteps never faltered. Long, denim-wrapped legs leading to lean muscles and lush, sexy curves. Loose, confident stance that spoke of both awareness and strength. Long, caramel-colored hair that she tossed away from her face as soon as she saw him coming, and God dammit, that was the second time this week he’d been blindsided by Isabella Moreno.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, wincing inwardly as the words crossed his lips. Not that he didn’t feel every inch of the attitude behind them, because after her fuck-up had put his sister’s life in danger three months ago, he so did. But slapping his emotions on his sleeve wasn’t on Kellan’s agenda, good, bad, or extremely pissed off. Of course, Isabella already knew he was chock full of the emotion behind door number three, anyway.
She pushed herself off the Camaro’s cherry red quarter panel, sliding one hand to her unnervingly voluptuous hip while the other remained wrapped around a cup of coffee. “Waiting for you.”
“I got that.” His tone left the what-for part of the question hanging between them, and Kellan had to hand it to her. Moreno wasn’t the type to mince words.
“I need a favor. I want you to walk me through the scene of Monday’s fire.”
Jesus, she had a sense of humor. Also, balls the size of Jupiter. “You want me to take you back to the scene of a fire that gutted a three-story house just to give you a play by play?”
She nodded, her brown eyes narrowing against the sunlight just starting to break past the buildings around them. “That about sums it up, yeah.”