Chapter 2 #2
I felt the familiar curl of tension in my gut as I pulled into the large lot behind the restaurant, the unwelcome combination of disliking someone you also wanted to fuck. Thankfully, I’d brought reinforcements. Someone to help me remember I was a professional and this was a job.
Kinsey had been quiet on the short drive, taking the opportunity to review the necessary steps involved in an origin and cause investigation.
My lieutenant was driven to move up to captain as soon as possible, and I wanted to make sure I was giving her ample opportunity to get the relevant experience she needed.
When we stepped out of my vehicle and began walking around to the front, she finally spoke up. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what brought you to Legacy?”
I thought about what to say. I needed a gay-friendly place to live that wasn’t on the East Coast, where my shitty past didn’t want to let me go, or on the West Coast, where the man I’d once loved happened to live.
No, I’d gone to the state that he’d dreamed about.
Pure coincidence, really. Definitely not appropriate to discuss with a member of my crew.
This is far enough away from my past that I can breathe. Also not something I wanted to share.
“I was looking for a nice place to live that had an opening for chief.” I shrugged. “Saw this listing in the forums online and reached out.”
She kept talking. “Your chief back in Philly wasn’t close to retirement or anything? What about another station nearby?”
I side-eyed her. “You ask a lot of questions.”
One of the things I’d learned about Kinsey Pope early on was that she wasn’t easily intimidated by me or anyone else. My accusation didn’t stop her.
“No offense, but you don’t seem like the type to settle down in small-town Montana,” she said.
“What type do I seem like?” I asked, glancing around the large outdoor seating area that already had a smattering of customers, even though it was still early and the weather carried a spring chill.
Kinsey shrugged. “Dunno. The city type, I guess.”
I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “What in the hell makes you say that? I grew up in Point Marion, Pennsylvania. Tiny place not far from the West Virginia border.” I dug deep and found my country drawl. “Weren’t nothin’ but a country boy once upon a holler.”
We entered the restaurant to the sound of her chuckle. She turned back to me with a grin. “Just returning to your small-town roots, then, huh?”
I flashed her a grin. “I figure there’s gotta be possum around here somewhere. That’s all I need to feel right at home.”
It was bullshit, of course. I’d spent the first twelve years of my life there, but my teenage years had been spent at a foster care group home outside Philly.
“Well, well,” Alex Marian said, glancing up from the reservations computer at the host stand.
“If it isn’t Captain Compliance. Welcome back.
Today’s special is a gourmet pizza just for you called the Flaming Overreaction, a molten-hot pie piled high with fiery Calabrian chiles, roasted red peppers, spicy soppressata, and a drizzle of chili-infused honey.
Just the right amount of heat to set off your taste buds—without, you know, calling in the fire marshal.
” He finished his little spiel with a wink.
Something about that wink set a torch to my cardiac rhythm, but I refused to take the bait. “Lieutenant Pope and I are here to ask you a few questions for the origin and cause investigation into yesterday’s incident.”
Alex’s teasing grin dropped. “You’re joking.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t joke about fire safety.”
He glanced at Kinsey and back to me. “He’s not joking, is he?”
Kinsey folded her arms in front of her chest, trying to look serious. “Fire safety isn’t a joke, Alex. You know that.”
“Yes,” he snapped before turning to me. “In fact, I do know that. I’ve cleared brush lines and fire breaks bigger than your goddamned rule book, run irrigation at 2:00 a.m. to keep a wildfire from jumping the road, and spent more than one harvest season praying the hills wouldn’t go up like matchsticks.
I’ve done the hot work permit dance, babysat barrel toasters with an extinguisher in hand, learned the difference between a Class B and a Class K before I knew my fucking alphabet, and evacuated a tasting room full of wine-drunk bachelorettes without losing a single pair of Louboutins to the stampede.
So believe me when I say this isn’t my first flaming rodeo. ”
His fiery response didn’t help my jacked-up heart rate, but I refused to let him see any reaction. I tried to look as bored and professionally distant as possible. “Sounds like what you’re saying is you have a history of attracting fires.”
His eyes widened comically. Before he could open his mouth to excoriate me with vitriol, an attractive woman stepped around him, shoving him backward until he was looking at the back of her long, dark waves.
“Hi, you must be Chief Kincaid,” she said, offering a killer smile and her slender hand for a shake. “I’m Ella Marian, Alex’s sister. I can assure you he’s been involved in many… flaming rodeos, but he was only responsible for one of them.”
“Ella!” Alex squawked. “What the fuck? Are you trying to get this place shut down?”
Kinsey murmured something under her breath that sounded like, “We aren’t actually talking about rodeos, right?” But I was too keyed up to pay much attention.
“Seems like something I ought to know about, Mr. Marian,” I said, leaning around his sister to see the irresponsible restaurant owner himself. “You being prone to setting fires, that is.”
Alex lurched at me, as if going for my throat, but his sister elbowed him in the gut.
“Oof. Fuck, El. Jesus.” Alex heaved in a breath. “You and I both know he’s being unfair, and now you’re making the situation worse.”
I shook my head. “Not possible. And it’s not unfair, it’s the NFPA 921. Not only is it a code requirement, but this investigation report is also required for your insurance claim. The faster you allow us to proceed, the faster we’ll be out of your hair.”
Alex’s hands tightened into fists. “Insurance claim for what? It was over in two seconds. The damage totaled forty bucks after I was able to clean up the chemicals!” He took a deep breath in through his nose, held it, and let it out in a controlled exhale.
“It will cost me more to replace the Class-K extinguisher you deployed unnecessarily.”
I opened my mouth to snap at him again, to put him in his place for daring to talk back to someone who had the power to shut this place down. But then I remembered the young lieutenant standing next to me.
This behavior wasn’t professional. And it wasn’t like me. I prided myself on my professionalism. Hell, back in Philly, some of the crew called me Ice Man and made jokes about the steam that came from having me with them on a job. The last thing I needed was for this pissant to get under my skin.
I stood up straight and looked down my nose at him, doing my best I don’t give a shit impression. “We can come back with an administrative warrant for the origin and cause investigation if necessary. Let us know how you’d like to proceed, Mr. Marian.”
Ella cracked a brittle but relieved smile. “He’ll comply. What do you need?”
Before Alex could bite out a response, she cheerfully clapped a hand over his mouth. “Why don’t we all have a seat over in the corner of the bar area where it’s nice and quiet, hm?”
I nodded and followed her to the table, taking a seat before glancing down at my tablet and opening the report template. “I’m going to need to talk to the staff witnesses,” I said, while finger-typing the basics into the first few fields.
The momentary silence surprised me. I looked up to see a flash of nerves or… guilt in Alex’s eyes. It was only there for a moment, and then it was gone.
“Just me,” he said, tilting his chin up defiantly.
I tilted my head and waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “That right? You were the only employee who witnessed the…” I wanted to say inferno just to provoke him, but I reminded myself to be professional. “Incident.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Motherfuck, how that word did something to me coming out of his mouth. I stared at the man for a beat too long before deciding to play nicely. “Fine. We’ll start with your interview, then. Can you tell us exactly what happened?”
And damned if Alexander Marian didn’t start blinking rapidly and lying his pretty mouth off.
It was a sight to behold. Pink cheeks, teeth scraping across full, abused lips as he stopped to think up the next part of his story, and the tiny little scratch of one fingernail on the tiny freckle of his opposite hand.
He was sexy as fuck, but up until now, I thought maybe he knew it. Now? Now I saw a side of him that was entirely unexpected. The previously brave trash-talker was hesitant, unsure, and stammering.
As he relayed a tale of pouring the rum at the same time he was trying to light the alcohol on fire and sanitize the bar with a flammable spray, even Kinsey’s mouth opened in disbelief.
Not only would it have been impossible for him to do all three things simultaneously, but he’d even had more than twelve hours to come up with a more plausible story than “I did it.”
Once he was done, the reddish-brown hair at the edge of his hairline was damp with sweat, curling delectably against his temple. He firmed his jaw and glared at me defiantly.
“Okay,” I said, typing the details into the tablet. “Let’s go over it one more time. Can you tell me exactly what happened from the beginning?”
Before he could sputter and wail, claim the repetition unnecessary, I leaned into his personal space and forced him to meet my eyes. “And this time, cut the shit, Marian.”