Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“H ere.”
Val opened his eyes to find a paper cup filled with coffee before him. He took the cup from Frank with a mumbled, “Thanks.” His body ached, and his lungs still burned. He also couldn’t shake the cold despite changing into dry clothes.
All he could think about was how damned lucky they’d been. How lucky he’d been. If that slab of stone had hit him in the head, or if Saint hadn’t alerted him in time and he hadn’t run when he did? Fuck, there were a hundred ways he could have died back there. Saint….
Val dropped his gaze to his hand. He could still feel Saint’s hand in his, his strength and warmth.
Instead of warning him, Saint ran to him and reached out.
Val had felt eyes on him the whole night, and whenever he looked up, their gazes met.
Was it interest or something else? Every time he thought there was something between them, Saint retreated.
Was Val reading too much into the looks?
Wishing thinking on his part? Why couldn’t he get Saint out of his head?
For fuck’s sake, he was too old to be pining after straight guys.
“He’s going to be okay,” Frank assured him.
His best friend knew him too well.
“What happened?” Frank asked, taking a seat next to him in the brightly lit waiting room.
“It all happened so fast. The force of the explosion sent us into the pool, and the only reason we didn’t get burned was because of a pillar between us and the bomb.
Of course, when it went off, a huge chunk of the damned thing slammed into us.
I got pinned by it. Ryden saw us hit the water.
He dove in and helped Saint get me out.” Val shook his head.
“Saint got impaled by something, and whatever it was must have come out when we hit the water. He was bleeding out and didn’t even know it. ”
Frank cursed under his breath. “With all that adrenaline pumping through him, he probably didn’t even feel it.”
Val grunted. The two of them knew a thing or two about adrenaline and pushing through the pain.
They might not be former military like Saint or most of the guys at Four Kings Security, but Frank had been a pipeman, along with Val, at the same firehouse back in the day.
They’d had their fair share of near-death experiences and life-threatening injuries.
One of those injuries had put an end to Frank’s firefighting days.
Frank took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, making Val smile. His Cuban friend had always been a coffee snob. Frank got up, tossed the coffee in the trash, and resumed his seat. “Any word on how he’s doing?”
“Last I heard, he was in surgery,” Val said with a sigh. “Ryden’s been sending me updates.”
“Ryden?”
“He’s Saint’s emergency contact.”
“Right. You got any updates on what the hell happened tonight?”
Val scrunched up his nose. “Retired, remember? I offered my services to the new fire chief and was informed he was…handling it.”
“Why did you say handling it like it should be in air quotes?”
“Let’s just say the mayor and I had a few words over who should be appointed my successor, but it’s all about re-elections and making the right people happy, so he went with someone who fits the ‘American hero’ narrative.”
“What the fuck? And you don’t fit the American hero narrative?”
“I’m the gay son of Italian immigrants, Frank. So no, I do not. Never did.”
“Fuck that bullshit. He knows how many lives you’ve saved, how many times you risked your life.
What about when you almost died saving that fucking asshat who left a gas generator running in his closed garage after the hurricane?
” Frank cursed in his native Spanish tongue, making Val chuckle.
His friend had never been the type to mince words.
As the only two openly gay firefighters in their house at the time, they’d stuck together, watched one another’s backs, and quickly became best friends over their propensity for being grumpy-ass, miserable fucks who liked good food, great coffee and telling the status quo to go fuck itself.
“What’s he know about being a hero? Asshole couldn’t even change his flat tire. He had to call you guys. Because that’s what the fire department is there for. To be his personal auto club.” Frank shook his head. “What about King? Anything from him?”
If anyone could find out what was going on, it was King and his band of merry mischief makers.
“Mason’s using his contacts inside the police department to get whatever information he can, but I doubt they’ll give him much.
You know what they’re like. Whoever Saint saw was long gone by the time the search started.
Hotel cameras got nothing. They knew what they were doing.
With so many city officials in attendance, hell, even the Kings being there as guests, it’s not going to be easy to figure out the intended target. ”
Frank leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers over his chest. His all-black suit, shirt, and tie looked out of place in the bright white and sky-blue waiting room. “Do you think King’s gonna use his secret weapon?”
“Considering King’s secret weapon was placed in harm’s way along with his brothers, I’d say there’s a good chance he’s going to do whatever it takes to track down the bastard.”
Frank scratched his chin. “I kinda hope King finds the asshole before the cops do.”
The former Green Beret was not a man to be trifled with.
That was for sure. Val had worked closely with the Kings when he’d been Chief.
The Kings had their ways, and Val had quickly discovered that as long as they didn’t get in the way of him doing his job or break any laws—at least not in front of him—then working together would benefit both of them.
He’d also learned that you did not mess with any of the Kings and their family.
Something told him the new “Let’s get back to good old-fashioned family values” fire chief wouldn’t be so accommodating, considering none of the Kings were straight.
“You sure you don’t want to head home and get some sleep?” Frank asked. “It’s been a rough night.”
Val shook his head. “I want to see him. Make sure he’s okay.
” He swallowed hard and frowned down at his hand.
“Thank him for saving my life.” Just as he’d said the words, a tired-looking Ryden walked through the double doors and headed his way.
Val sat up, hating the ball of lead in the pit of his stomach.
“Hey, fellas. Fuck, what a night,” Ryden drawled, his Texas accent getting heavier the more tired he got. He rubbed his left eye, leaving his right open, drawing attention to it. Val felt for the guy.
Ryden’s left eye was half amber and half gray, and his right was a foggy gray due to an accident that had taken his vision while he served. Val had heard that the Marine pilot had taken his honorable discharge really hard. These days, he seemed to be doing a lot better.
“How is he?” Val asked.
“He’s out of surgery and doing good. They said he was real lucky. It’s a big ass flesh wound, mostly. He has a bunch of stitches, so he’ll be put on leave for a while, but he’s a big, strong boy. He’ll be on the mend pretty quick. Gonna drive us all out of our fucking minds, though.”
“What do you mean?”
Ryden blinked at him. “You got a former SEAL with nothing to do. Getting him to sit still is gonna be about as easy as pissing up a rope.”
“I think Val can help with that,” Frank said, grinning wide as he thrust a thumb in Val’s direction.
Val and Ryden exchanged confused looks before Val turned to his friend. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The tavern.”
“Tavern?” Ryden frowned. “What tavern?”
Val snorted. His friend needed more caffeine. “The man has a hole in his side, and you want me to put him to work?” He shook his head. Besides, the last thing he needed was to have Saint hanging around him all day, sweating, using those strong arms and hands to…. No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“What tavern?” Ryden asked again.
“A few years ago, I realized there wasn’t a local watering hole for our first responders. Somewhere they could grab a few beers and some burgers. So, I decided that when the time came, I’d retire and open one up. It would give me something to do and keep me connected to the community.”
Ryden’s face lit up. “That’s awesome! Saint loves building shit. Not that your tavern is shit, but you know what I mean. Opening a tavern’s a great idea too.”
Before Val could stop this nonsense, a nurse emerged from the double doors. She stopped in front of them and smiled.
“Mr. Cavallero is awake. He’s asking for you.”
“Let me know how he’s doing,” Val told Ryden, surprised when the nurse shook her head, a mysterious little smile on her face.
“He’s asking for the Chief.”
“Oh.” Val ignored his best friend’s obnoxious grin and stood.
He followed the nurse through the doors and down the long corridor, turning this corner and that, walking past the nurses’ station and occupied rooms. He thanked the nurse and opened the door, slipping inside and closing it quietly behind him.
It looked like Saint had fallen back asleep.
Val walked over to the side of the bed and stood there for several heartbeats.
What was it about Saint that enthralled him so much?
Of all the men in this city, in this damned state, he had to be interested in the straight guy.
What was wrong with him? Saint wasn’t the first straight guy Val had been attracted to, but he was the only one Val couldn’t move on from.
Man, he was something. Younger looking than his thirty-something years. His brows were dark and thick, as were the lashes now resting on his cheeks. Stubble covered his jaw already, and his full lips were slightly parted.