The Night Horde SoCal: Fire And Dark Part 11

Before he could catch his breath, she was squirming to get loose from him. He obliged her, pulling out fast enough to make them both wince.

She started pulling her clothes back to rights quickly, and she didn't look at him. As he pulled off the condom and tied it off, he asked, "You okay?" Maybe she was regretting the direction their fight had taken them.

"Yeah. Just-let's get in the car." She looked around the parking lot, something like guilt or shame playing over her face.

Ah. He got it, and he grabbed her hand before she could pull away. "You don't like f.u.c.king in public."

"Not my kink." Then she looked up at him, and her expression calmed. "It was hot, though." She smiled and brushed her fingers over his sore lip. The touch moved him more than it should have.

"What is your kink, Cordero?" What he'd seen of her drawer of toys was too much of a cornucopia to have offered much insight.

"Come home with me and find out."

CHAPTER TEN.

They didn't talk at all on the ride back to her place.

Pilar's brain was grinding its gears, trying to make sense of the night-the strange dinner, which had been fun and illuminating and irritating and confusing, all in a disorienting cycle; the bizarre scene at The Deck, with Connor and Moore trying to kill each other, and the ref letting it happen, as if he'd been paid off or something.

Oh, f.u.c.k. That was it. One of them had paid him off.

Connor. It had to have been Connor.

Stopping at the end of the off-ramp that would lead them to her home, Pilar turned and studied the man in her pa.s.senger seat. Mostly, she saw the back of his head, because he was staring out the side window. But she knew his face was pretty messed up. Moore looked a lot worse, though. Only one man had gone into that ring with an agenda beyond compet.i.tion.

Why?

Because of her. He'd denied it, but it was true. He was jealous. She'd known it at the station, and she'd liked it. Well, tonight had been the consequence. And she still kind of liked it.

Hence the rabid f.u.c.king in the parking lot. Public s.e.x was a line for Pilar. She didn't like it, she didn't think it was hot, she didn't want to see or do it. Getting walked in on was one thing. She wasn't shy; half her life was spent living with men who saw her naked often enough that she no longer cared. But she wasn't looking for an audience. s.e.x, even casual s.e.x, was intimate, and it deserved at least a semblance of f.u.c.king privacy. Something in her life should be private.

But she'd loved what they'd done, at least while they'd been doing it. It had been all dark need and fire, and for that it was one of the hottest encounters she could remember. She'd never had even the slimmest thought to stop.

They needed to talk. Like, real talk.

He turned, his brow creased with a frown. Yeah, his face needed some attention-in addition to the swollen jaw and bruised cheek, there was a cut over one eye, blood smeared and caked around it, and another through his bottom lip. She'd tasted that one in the parking lot. For all she knew, her own mouth was streaked with blood, too.

Okay, first things first: she'd fix him up, and then they'd talk.

And then, depending on how that went, maybe she'd show him her kink.

"Problem?" he asked, and she realized she'd been stopped at the intersection for too long.

She checked for cars and then made her left. "We need to talk."

He didn't answer, just turned back to look out the window.

The garage door was open; Mrs. Lee had a tendency to forget. They shared the two-car s.p.a.ce, Mrs. Lee's old Ford Taurus on one side and Pilar's Element on the other. She parked her Victory against the back wall-and usually left her Element on the side skirt of the driveway, because as a two-car s.p.a.ce, that garage was a joke, and Mrs. Lee had to open her door all the way to get her arthritic legs out of her car.

She parked in the driveway now. As they got out, she hit the remote for the garage door, and the door began to roll down. Connor looked over and then sort of tilted his head.

"Who rides?"

"What?" She met him at the back of the Honda.

"There's a bike in there. Whose?"

"Mine. I ride."

The way his expression s.h.i.+fted told her that he'd been set to be jealous again. There was an uncomfortable second as that feeling warred with the one brought on by her answer, and then he smiled, wincing when his lip spread. "Nice. Didn't catch the make-but not a Harley."

"No. Victory Hammer."

"Nice."

He seemed impressed, maybe even pleased, but Pilar didn't want to talk bikes. "Come on. I've got first aid stuff inside."

Once inside, she led him to her kitchen and sat him down on a chair in her little dining nook. Then she got her kit and some other supplies. When she came back, he was sitting with his elbows on her table, resting his head in his hands. He looked up as she set the kit in front of him.

"You feel dizzy?"

"Nah. Just tired." He reached for the kit, but she brushed his hand away.

"I got it. Just be still." Stepping between his legs, she lifted his head. He never had b.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt, and his broadly cut, perfect chest was right there. It made her mouth water.

First she wiped his face with a wet washcloth. He closed his eyes and let her, his face relaxed even as she pressed down to clean the blood from his cuts.

"You paid the ref or something didn't you? To let you fight as long as you wanted."

He opened his eyes but didn't answer. Not saying 'no' was answer enough.

"Because you're jealous of Moore."

He shook his head.

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

"Pretty high opinion of yourself, puss."

She pushed his chin away and dropped the washcloth. As she rifled for an antiseptic wipe, she snarled, "I f.u.c.king hate it when you call me that. I could tell the first time I heard it that you call all the women you don't care about that-and the waitress at dinner proved me right. It's just short for 'p.u.s.s.y,' isn't it? Because that's how you see all women." She was wiping his lacerations with the antiseptic, and this time, as she dug at the cut over his eye, he winced and pulled back.

"Not all women, no."

Guessing what he meant, she rolled her eyes. "All women but your mother, then."

"What does it matter? Why do you care?"

She s.h.i.+ed away from that answer and instead asked another question. "Why did you come home with me?"

"What? You invited me." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face.

"Yeah, but you got your f.u.c.k, and we're p.i.s.sed at each other. Why'd you come?"

He stared. "I'm not p.i.s.sed."

"Well, I am." She set the wipe aside and got a b.u.t.terfly bandage from her kit. As she affixed it over his eyebrow, she asked, "What are we doing, Connor?"

Again he stared, but this time his eyes moved, scanning back and forth over Pilar's face, as if he were looking for something she was hiding. But that was the point of her questions-she didn't want to hide. She'd decided she wanted something-someone. Him. And not just for fun. She could feel their chemistry, their connection, and it fed something inside her. Maybe a guy like this would get her and would give her room for the life she lived.

Then a mask seemed to slide over his face, and he answered her latest question. "I thought I was here to f.u.c.k you."

That hurt. As at dinner, when just at the moment she'd been feeling most connected, he'd said something cavalier and a little bit s.h.i.+tty, she felt almost like he'd literally pushed her away.

There was going for what you wanted, and there was throwing yourself into an emotional blender, and Pilar knew that the line between the two was coming up fast. But she was just figuring all this out herself, and she knew she was changing the terms, terms she'd been the first to set up. It had been her pus.h.i.+ng him back until tonight.

She brushed her fingertips over a cheek that was swollen but not cut, and his eyes fluttered closed for a second. "You don't want more than that?"

His hands grabbed her hips, and for a second, Pilar thought he was going to pull her onto his lap. Instead, he pushed her backward and stood up.

"I told you. I don't like complications. I like you. I like hanging out, and I love f.u.c.king you. But no. I don't want more than that."

She knew that was bulls.h.i.+t. She knew it, could feel the truth of it. But she didn't call him on it. He was going to leave. When he b.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt and pulled his kutte off the back of the chair, she simply watched.

She wasn't surprised when he said, "I'm going. I'm sorry about the parking lot. I don't make a habit of f.u.c.king women in ways they don't want."

"I wanted it."

He chuckled without humor. "Okay, then. Thanks for the medical attention. I'll see you around."

I'll see you around. He was done. f.u.c.k, Pilar did not want that. She wanted to explore what they were feeling, why they were feeling it. There was something between them. There was, d.a.m.n it! "Connor, wait."

She reached out, but he grabbed her hand before she could touch him. "I thought we understood each other, Cordero."

For the first time, her last name sounded wrong in his voice. "We do. That's my point. I think we understand each other."

"Not what I meant." He dropped her hand and turned from her, and he headed straight to her front door. She followed him to the doorway between the kitchen and her living room and saw that he didn't even pause before he opened the door and went away.

She was still standing in the same spot, gripping the jamb with one hand, when she heard his big Harley chopper roar and then fade away.

There'd been a window somewhere in the little time they'd known each other. Maybe it had been the morning here, after he'd spent the night, when he'd said he wanted to see her again. Maybe if she'd done something other than back away from him, the window between them would have stayed open.

But she hadn't. What she was feeling had surprised her, and that morning had been too early to see what she really wanted. She'd let the window close.

f.u.c.k.

"Station 76 on two-story stucco residence, heavy fire and smoke, multiple exposures, heavy brush twenty feet. Report of two missing, a.s.sumed at risk. Using super booster, next company in bring a line."

Pilar heard Guzman's call for backup in her headset and filed it away in her head. It was nothing she didn't already know. She and Moore prepared to enter the structure, a house at the end of a cul de sac. Off to the side of the scene were a mother and two children, getting medical a.s.sistance from Nguyen and Perez. They were distraught. The father was in the house; he'd been trapped by the fire while trying to get their third child out.

This was a hot one, but unless it was fully involved, a fire could usually be navigated by someone who understood it and had the right gear. The mother had reported that the little boy had been in the kids' bathroom upstairs. Her husband had gone for him.

Now, the staircase and hallway were engaged. And that was the puzzle. Every rescue had one; the thing that kept a citizen trapped was the thing that the rescue team had to solve. In this case, it was getting to an interior room on the second floor when the only staircase was already involved. They'd tried a ladder into a second-floor window, but the involvement blocked that option completely. They had to climb.

And there was no human sound coming from above, no sign that anyone was hoping for help. That could be a good thing-the father could have had them on the floor away from the heat, knowing to save their oxygen.

Or they could have been incapable of calling for help.

While Moore called for a line, Pilar stood at the foot of the stairs and watched the fire. She put her hand on the wall; her gloves had sensors in the fingertips and palm that read out information onto her face s.h.i.+eld about the environment-temperature, oxygen content, etc. The data glowed green and seemed to float over the wavering reds and yellows and whites in the fire.

"I see it. I'm going up." She tightened her grip around her Halligan and put her boot on the first step, right against the wall.

"Cordero, f.u.c.k! Let's get it wet down."

That would turn smoke and vapor into dense fog. "I won't be able to see, then. I got it."

"f.u.c.k. I'm right behind you." He hit his mic. "We need a unit on the line in here. Rescue going hot to the second floor."

"Belay that. Line coming in."

Pilar heard the order and ignored it. Fire moved fast. She saw the way through, but it wouldn't be there long.

She could hear Moore huff into his mic. "No go. We're up already."

Then he was right behind her, following her path. When they got to the top, the blaze looked impa.s.sable, but Pilar had seen the break in it. She crossed just as water spumed up from below, and smoke and vapor filled the air.

They moved into the hallway, where flames were burning straight up the walls but staying close to the baseboards on the floor. Fire was a lazy b.a.s.t.a.r.d and always took the easiest path; Pilar turned and met Moore's face s.h.i.+eld, the best they could do for a meaningful look. Investigation wasn't their field, but they both thought this looked like accelerant. On the second floor.

That was somebody else's problem; they were on a rescue mission. Half the doors on the hallway were open. They checked each room, Pilar laying her hand on the closed doors and reading the stats before knocking them in. They found fire licking up the walls, blocking the windows, creeping onto the floor s.p.a.ce in an oddly controlled way.

Toward the end of the hallway, on the interior side, Pilar laid her hand on a closed door and found a temperature read that suggested no fire-probably because the oxygen content was so low. Smoke must have filled the room. Nothing about this fire made sense.

With so little oxygen, there was little danger of backdraft, so she tried the k.n.o.b. It turned, but the door didn't give. It was blocked, and Pilar he thought she knew why. She rapped on the hollow, interior door, high, then moved downward, getting a sense of the block. It was low and thick. A body, then.

She turned and gestured to Moore, signaling what she intended. Then she raised her Halligan, meaning to hit high and rip the door in half. She could grab the kid, and Moore could get the dad. With luck, they were just unconscious.

He nodded.

And then the ceiling collapsed behind him. As fire fell from above, he lunged forward, into Pilar, and they tumbled to the floor. They were surrounded by flames.