Pin-Up Fireman Page 23

  Wolf ordered the German shepherd to sit beside him. Ordered him to stay. Ordered him to hold. He did –for all of fifteen seconds. Both photographers got as many shots in as they could before Einstein ran through the firehouse with Becca’s thong.

  “I think we got what we need. Flash, thank everyone and call it a wrap.”

  He reared back and hollered, “Thanks, folks. It’s a wrap!”

  Einstein started barking and jumping. Wolf clipped on the dog’s leash and walked him to the car. Both he and Becca leaned against it to talk.

  “Matt, go ask your dad if he wants to walk us to the car and say goodnight. A bath and it’ll be time for Aunt Jinny to put you to bed.”

  Boyd must have heard her. He came running and picked them each up with one arm.

  “See how strong my daddy is?”

  “Your daddy’s got strong love. For his boy.” He kissed Matt. “And for a special lady he adores.” He kissed her cheek. “Safe travels home. Both of you call me.”

  She’d kept her phone turned off since she picked up Matt. She didn’t want phone calls to interrupt her photography session. It had been her aim to wrap it up and she was thankful she and her helper were able to do it. The kid had a real talent for helping. She was eager to see the pictures he took today to see how they’d turned out with next to zero training.

  A couple of blocks from Boyd and Matt’s townhouse, she glanced in her rearview mirror. His eyes were closed and drool trickled out of the side of his mouth. She pulled in Boyd’s parking spot and carried Matt up the sidewalk. Aunt Jinny opened the door. “Boyd just called. He said to expect a sleepy boy.”

  “I’m afraid he’s out for the night. He did a really good job.”

  Aunt Jinny snorted. “Did he really call one of the old men Hell’s Ass?”

  Graci-Ella nodded. “It was the funniest thing. Thank goodness I’d thought to have Boyd take him to the old man’s car to take pictures of it, because they can say and do some really inappropriate things.” She told her about the cucumbers. “Honest to Pete, I’ll never be able to eat another one again.” Both women laughed as she passed Matt over to his great aunt.

  “Boyd, get out here to the big screen, quick! Important news!” Wolf’s voice sounded damn urgent over the intercom. He ran out in time to see Darryl Weir’s face on the screen as the police chief walked to a podium to give an update.

  Boyd sat on the sofa. “What the hell?”

  “Darryl Weir, charged with attempted vehicular homicide of a local woman, malicious harassment of the same woman and breaking a restraining order against her, as well, escaped from jail today around noon by strangulating a guard and hiding in a canvas laundry bin of a local washing company used for several years by the jail system here in Clearwater. While there, he beat a male employee to death and bludgeoned a female employee, who is in intensive care at one of the local hospitals. He stole clothes to help disguise his appearance. We had suspected he fled the area in the car of the employee he critically injured. But the 2005 black Honda Civic has been found torched in an alley near Johnston Street. Please consider him armed and dangerous. Should you see someone…”

  By now, Boyd’s mind blocked out the police chief and focused on his Graci-Ella.

  The captain stood behind him, his hands on his shoulders. “Is Matt home?”

  Boyd nodded. “Yeah, Aunt Jinny called about half an hour ago. I haven’t heard from Graci-Ella.” He removed his phone and dialed her number. It went to voicemail. “Hey Sweetness, call me when you get home. It’s important.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the captain. “You know Darryl’s not left the area. He’s gone for her. He’s got some kind of fixation on my woman. I think he’d kill her in a minute because she put him down.”

  “Yeah, before he got fired. Before you and him had come to blows here in this room, he kept bragging how she wanted him and he was going to fuck her over and over.” The Virgin spoke up. “I thought he was just blowing off like he always did. Frankly, I was glad to see him loose his job.”

  Boyd jumped off the sofa. “Captain, I need a personal night, sick night, emergency leave. Whatever. I’m going to her condo for the night.”

  “Not by yourself, you’re not. Need some volunteers, people. Everyone stood up.” The captain shook his head. “What if there’s a fire? Or I need an ambulance? I want one ambulance crew remaining here. If there’s a fire, I’ll drive another truck and contact Quinn on the way. Gas Ass and Hell’s Bells, you’ll stay and be my help. The rest of you can go in Quinn’s fire truck. No sirens or lights. Does she have a balcony in the front of the building?”

  Boyd nodded. She’s on the third floor.

  “All of you use the ladder to charge through her balcony doors one after another. God help the poor woman if we’re way off base and she’s in no harm. She’ll piss her pants.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Graci-Ella stepped off the elevator and almost ran into Mrs. Howard. “Hello Graci-Ella, I’m on my way to a late night Bingo party. Want to come along?”

  “No, thank you. A bowl of soup, a shower and I’ll be in bed. Good luck to you. Hope you win big.”

  “Thanks, darlin’.” She patted her silver curls.

  Graci-Ella unlocked her door and stepped inside, entered her security code before hanging her purse on her bedroom’s doorknob. After removing the data cards from both of her cameras, she put all her photography equipment on the top shelf of her coat closet. She laid the data cards beside her computer before sliding out of her stilettoes and rubbing her toes.

  Something creaked. Was it in her condo or upstairs? Maybe the Richfield’s cat had jumped onto something. Like her balcony railing? Every so often, Marcus got out and came down for a visit. And every time, the Richfields acted as if Graci-Ella had enticed the cat down to her condo for some despicable reason.

  An unexpected item caught her eye.

  On her kitchen bar.

  A black rose.

  Oh, dear God.

  Darryl was here!

  How? Her heart pounded a fear-filled beat. He was locked in jail! How could he be here in her home? Sand must have packed her mouth absorbing all the moisture, for she could barely swallow. Chills of deathly terror coiled around her body and squeezed like a boa constrictor. She backed against the wall and snatched the receiver for her house line; it was dead. Thank God for her cell, she swung to her bedroom door.

  The doorknob was empty.

  Her purse was gone.

  Her gaze swept the room. The lights were out in her security system. He must have cut the lines to it when he cut her phone line.

  Darryl also must have grabbed her purse, which meant he was where he could watch her. How else would he know where she’d hung her bag? That was probably the creak she heard. From where she stood on trembling legs, she noted several black roses scattered across her bed’s decorative pillows. The implication made her sick.

  “Fight for the offensive,” her basketball coach had preached. “Someone on the defensive was already weak.”

  She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a few beers. She carried them into her living room and sat them on the coffee table before she plopped down. “Hey, Darryl. Want a beer? I’ve got two Coors, one Old Leg Humper and a Blithering Idiot.” She laughed. “My God, they’ve even named a beer after you. Come on out and have a brew with me. This hiding business is kind of juvenile. If you want to kill me, have a beer and do it.”

  How ironic was this? She was offering herself up for a sacrifice. “Hey, it’s kinda funny when you think about it. Suds and sacrifice. How many killers get this opportunity? Come on out and wet your whistle before you silence mine.” If he got close enough, could she belt him a few times? A hard elbow in the eye? Hey, she was going to die anyhow. She had nothing to lose. Why not make him fight for it? Her insides trembled and her hands shook. Who knew what he’d planned on doing to her. She picked up her high heels and silently strode toward her front door. One flick of her dea
dbolt and she’d make a mad dash for the elevator.

  The floor creaked and a knife was thrown into her door next to her hand and lock. She whirled around in terror. Darryl appeared—as maniacal looking as ever. “You are one ballsy bitch if you think you can get away from me.”

  She returned to her sofa, snapped off a top on a Coors and saluted him. “Come join me, then.” Her hand shook so badly, she spilled some beer on her dress. She took a long drag, allowing the cool liquid to wash away some of the sand in her dry mouth.

  He snatched a beer and twisted off the top. “You have no idea how I’m going to enjoy choking you until that smart mouth of yours finally shuts up forever.”

  “I’ve had a lot of women basketball players threaten to do the same thing. It never really scared me.” Darryl grabbed her forearms and threw her across the room.

  Okay, maybe I went too far with that remark.

  “I’m tired of your superiority.” He bore down on her, jerked her onto her feet and hit her jaw. She crumpled to the floor.

  Yeah, wrong battle tactic. My big mouth got my ass in trouble.

  “What’s wrong, bitch?” He kicked her in the ribs a couple times. “Not as tough as you thought you were?” He slipped a long knife from his pocket. “Imagine how this will feel slowly sliding into you.”

  Glass shattered and boots hit the floor. She rolled away from her attacker. A gang of firemen charged Darryl. Ivy Jo made a call on her cell, then rushed to see to Graci-Ella’s injuries.

  Boyd pummeled Darryl. Her man had a feral look in his eyes as he choked the criminal, who’d threatened to kill her. Darrel stabbed Boyd’s shoulder and arm. Wolf broke Darryl’s arm and kicked away the knife. And still, Boyd kept pounding Darryl. There was so much violence and blood. How badly was Boyd hurt?

  His fellow firefighters pulled him off and, one by one, punched the criminal.

  “What are they doing?” Graci-Ella grabbed Ivy Jo’s hand.

  “Protecting Boyd. He did some severe damage. Now when the cops ask who hit the intruder, they can all show bruised knuckles and claim they did it. He shouldn’t have to pay for protecting the woman he loves. Besides, he’s hurt.” Both women crawled over to check on him.

  The police swept in, guns drawn as a circle of firemen stood around a dead murderer.

  “How badly are you hurt?” Boyd cradled her in his arms and gently held her, his blood soaking her clothes. He pressed his lips to her ear. “It’s over, baby. I made sure it’s over. He’ll never hurt you again.”

  “I know, Love. No woman could ask for a better hero. Thank God you came when you did.”

  “I love you more than my own life. I’d die before I’d let some bastard take you from me.”

  They rode in the ambulance together, their gazes locked on each other, whispering words of love and promises for the future. Boyd mentioned marriage several times.

  Once they were wheeled into the ER, Graci-Ella insisted her man be treated first. He was losing a lot of blood. Boyd needed both internal and external stitches and bitched the whole time about the doctor using a knitting needle to sew up his arm. Graci-Ella held his other hand. “Now, sweetheart, you have to be a big strong boy like Matt.” That earned her a scowl, and she did her best not to laugh. Her ribs hurt like hell.

  Because Graci-Ella’s was less than three months out from brain surgery, she was thoroughly examined and given an MRI. Her surgeon proclaimed her well in that department, although her face was badly bruised and two ribs cracked. Both were kept in the hospital overnight for observation.

  Boyd asked Aunt Jinny to bring Matt to the medical center, so he could tell his son what all had happened before he heard it on the news or from other kids in school. He also wanted his son to see he was okay, just stitched up like an old baseball.

  The medicine for pain made Graci-Ella sleepy. At first, she thought she was dreaming when Matt crawled in bed with her. “I came to kiss your boo-boos.” Gentle kisses feathered across her face. “I also think you and Dad need to be married. The two of you belong together. You’re both a little klutzy.”

  She hugged him close. “Yeah, sometimes we are. How about you? Do you get klutzy?”

  “Nah, I just trip over stuff.” He wiggled his hand in his pants pocket. “I brought this along, because I knew Dad wouldn’t have a ring on him. I know how it’s done. I saw it in the movies.” He produced a plastic Superman ring and took her hand. “Graci-Ella, will you marry Dad and me?” He pushed it on her pinky finger.

  Well, really, who could refuse a proposal like that?

  The first Saturday of November was an ideal day to get married. The sun shone brightly. The waves rolled gently. And the staff of Bayshore Club had arranged the small wedding to perfection. A tent with a floor was set up in which the bride and her attendant, Ivy Jo, were to get dressed. Her mother, too, of course. She had chosen the bridal gown and attendant’s garb. Grace was thrilled to see to every fashion and make-up detail of her only daughter’s wedding.

  All the members of Station Thirty-two and their significant others were there. So were a couple lawyers from Baker, Brannock and Hughes. Graci-Ella’s grandparents also flew to Florida for the nuptials. The white chairs were decorated with mint bows and a copy of the calendar that had brought the bride and groom together.

  Ivy Jo wore a mint green sheath with darker green lace at the bust line and shoulders. She carried a bouquet of gold flowers and ivy. For her daughter to wear at her wedding, Grace chose a white satin sheath with a short train. The top was off-the-shoulder lace with pearls and crystals. The bride had gotten three inches cut off her hair; white ribbons and flowers were woven through her tresses. Boyd had sent Graci-Ella a round bouquet of white roses trimmed in crimson, just as he’d given her in the hospital so many months ago.

  Boyd and the captain both wore black tuxedoes. So did Matt.

  Grace beamed at her husband. “Look at her, Ellis. She’s glowing with happiness. Boyd and little Matt need her and she needs them.”

  What her mother said was true. The three of them needed each other. Graci-Ella and Boyd had talked their differences through. With Boyd’s encouragement, she sold her condo and used the money to open a photography studio. The change in her profession was like a permanent sunrise in her soul. Her man helped her decorate it and built props, with Matt’s help, of course. He was completely theirs now. Chantal had signed away her rights.

  Graci-Ella’s love for Boyd had deepened. They cherished each other more every day. Matt was determined he’d get her for a mother. Deep in her heart, she knew she couldn’t imagine being with any other man than her pin-up hero.

  Also by Vonnie Davis …

  How to Seduce a Fireman

  For the Love of a Fireman

  Santa Wore Leathers

  Vonnie Davis

  For years I’ve been a romance junkie, devouring each one like warm, chocolate chip cookies. Perhaps that’s why I adore writing about love and passion. Passion—such a powerful word, don’t you think? I’d classify myself as a late bloomer. I started college in my late forties, met the love of my life in my mid-fifties and published my first book in my early sixties. My husband and I live in Southern Virginia. We enjoy spoiling the grandchildren and traveling. My deepest desire is to write saucy, often humorous romances you’ll cherish long after you’ve turned off the e-reader.

  www.vonniedavis.com

  @VonnieWrites

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