5. three
three
. . .
CREW
The following morning, I pushed into the diner, wide awake despite not getting any meaningful sleep. Over the second half of my shift, we’d had four calls that had kept us out most of the night. Any time I’d get a chance to rest, the bells would go off again.
Dusk Valley FD wasn’t as exciting as shows like Chicago Fire and Fire Country made firefighting seem. Mainly, it was routine chaos, a mundanity that, after five years, I’d settled into easily.
As the door swung closed behind me, the waitress, Bonnie, who had been working here since I was a kid, approached with a wide, nicotine-stained grin.
“Morning, Crew. You want your usual seat at the counter?”
I shook my head. “I’m actually meeting someone,” I said, gesturing to the box of files under my arm in explanation.
“Take your pick then,” Bonnie said. “I’ll bring over coffee and menus.” She curled a brow on the last word, her inflection making it more of a question than statement.
“Menus would be great. Thanks, Bon.”
The place was mostly empty; it was that odd time of year between winter and summer tourists when Dusk Valley became a ghost town. The same locals who came in every morning like clockwork were in their usual spots, so I had my pick of tables. Scanning the room, I didn’t see Aspen anywhere, so I selected a booth along the exterior, where the windows let in the early-morning sunshine, and slid in with my back to the wall.
When Aspen walked through the door, I was struck momentarily speechless by how beautiful she was. Dark jeans clung to her shapely legs, the hems disappearing into a pair of black, shit-kicking combat boots with a thick sole. She had on a tight black tee tucked into the jeans and a charcoal grey windbreaker thrown overtop to ward off the chill. Chocolatey hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her skull, and she wore no makeup that I could tell.
In a word, Aspen McKay was breathtaking. I knew I had to keep my wits about me with this one.
Bonnie appeared from the back, and I didn’t miss the way the older woman’s gaze slid up and down Aspen’s person, inspecting, though her expression remained bored.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Crew Lawless?”
Bonnie pointed in my direction, and I stood as Aspen’s gaze locked on mine, a small smile curving her mouth as she walked my way.
“Miss McKay,” I said when she stood in front of me. “Good to see you again.”
“Aspen, please,” she told me as she slid into the booth opposite me. “You as well. I’m sure you’d much rather be sleeping, so I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”
“It’s really no problem at all.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she dropped the argument when Bonnie approached with another mug and carafe of coffee.
“I’ll give you a second to look over the menu,” she said pointedly to Aspen, knowing I’d had the thing memorized for years. After offering her a smile, Aspen’s attention dropped to the laminated paper, and I mouthed be nice at Bonnie.
With an eye roll, the old woman disappeared once again.
“So what’s good here?” Aspen asked.
“Everything.”
Aspen chuckled. “Helpful.”
I hitched a shoulder up. “I’ve been eating here as long as I can remember. I’ve tried everything Bonnie has to offer, and there’s not a single bad dish.”
“Okay…” Aspen said, dropping her menu and resting her elbows on the table to lean toward me, those cinnamon eyes assessing. “Then tell me what you’re getting.”
I mirrored her pose, dropping my voice. “You want me to tell you what to do?”
Aspen blinked slowly at my tone, but breathed, “Maybe.”
“You don’t seem like the type, Miss McKay.”
“Aspen.”
“Aspen,” I repeated.
“Yes?”
“Chicken and bacon waffles,” I said lowly, almost like I was describing my favorite sexual position.
What the fuck was happening here? I knew we were being lured into dangerous waters, but I couldn’t find the energy to pull us from the trance.
Aspen’s pink tongue darted out to trace along her bottom lip, and my skin tightened with the action. Wondering how it would look swirling around the tip of my co?—
“You two ready to order?”
We snapped apart like we’d been shocked, and when I dared a glance up at her, Bonnie’s lips were pursed in my direction, clearly unimpressed. Internally, I groaned. The problem with being a small town boy was that all the old folks treated me like their child. But I didn’t need to be mothered. If I wanted that, I’d head over to the ranch and let my real mama fuss over me .
“My usual,” I croaked.
“Honey and syrup?”
I chuckled at Bonnie. “Do I ever get it any other way?”
She smirked, but her expression flattened when she turned to Aspen.
But Aspen’s eyes were on me.
“Honey and syrup?” she asked, one of those perfect, dark brows raised toward her hairline.
“Honey for the chicken, syrup?—”
“For the waffles,” Bonnie finished. “He’s been doing it since he was a kid.”
“That’s…a lot of sugar.”
I merely shrugged. In general, I took great care of my body, but I liked to indulge every now and then.
Aspen considered that for a second before she said, “I’ll have the same. And can I get a bowl of whatever fresh fruit you’ve got on the side?”
Bonnie nodded, said, “Sure thing, toots,” and left again.
“ Toots ?” Aspen asked.
“She’s warming up to you.”
Aspen snorted. “Well, I hope everyone else in town warms up as quickly.”
“Dusk Valley is the best. I’m sure they will.”
“Did you grow up here?”
“Sure did. Born and raised.”
“How long have you been a firefighter?”
“Since I was eighteen.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Thirty-one.”
Her eyes widened and brows raised. “Your captaincy is impressive at your age.”
“You can’t be much older than me.”
“Thirty-three,” she admitted.
“Exactly. ”
“So you joined the fire department here right out of high school then?”
I grimaced at the memories her words unearthed. She couldn’t know the bruise she’d pressed on, reminding me of a time when I’d been a stupid kid and not the mostly well-adjusted man before her.
“Not exactly,” I said. “I applied for the Chicago Fire Department early on in my senior year, and miraculously, my name was drawn in the lottery. After graduation, I moved to Chicago, went through the academy, and worked there for five years.”
“And you’ve been back here since?”
“Nope,” I said proudly, popping the p dramatically. “I spent almost three years in Northern California fighting campaign fires before ultimately moving home and settling in at the DVFD.”
Aspen leaned back in the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re a hotshot too. Doubly impressive.”
I raised a brow. “You know what a hotshot is?”
“Please,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen Fire Country .”
I couldn’t help it; I tipped my head back and boomed out a laugh. This woman—she was something else. And I was only scratching the surface.
Glancing down at myself, I flicked my gaze up to her and smirked. “You comparing me to Max Thieriot?”
Aspen made some dismissive, disapproving sound in the back of her throat. “Definitely not. You look nothing like him.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m obviously way hotter.”
“You’re incorrigible. And we’re not here so you can flirt with me, Captain.”
“Is that what we’re doing, Miss McKay? Are we flirting?”
God, I fucking hoped so.
“No,” she clipped, far too quickly to be believable.
I grinned but let it drop, shifting gears to the reason for our meeting.
Twisting to the side, I lifted the lid on the box of files and withdrew the one on top, the first label reading 24-APRIL-1985, SUNSET RIDGE CAR FIRE.
“Walk me through what you know so far,” I said, passing the file over.
“I’ll be honest, not much,” she admitted, almost absently as she scanned the incident report. “I was contacted by Vicky Lee’s parents. They don’t want to be involved, and they aren’t paying me, but…I was intrigued enough to reach out via phone. We talked for a few hours, and I knew I couldn’t let this one go.” Returning to herself, Aspen glanced up at me. “No parent should ever have to bury their child,” she said vehemently. “I’m going to do everything I can to bring this sick fucker to justice.”
“I appreciate the can-do spirit,” I said slowly, choosing my next words carefully. “But what makes you think you can accomplish what four decades of law enforcement hasn’t been able to?”
“I’m not saying I can. But I can get in places cops can’t thanks to all that jurisdictional and bureaucratic red tape.” She placed her hand atop the open file and jerked her chin at the rest sitting in the box at my side. “I owe it to these women and their families to try.”
“And man,” I said, glancing pointedly at the file under her hand, which detailed the incident that claimed Roger Stanhope’s life as well as Vicky Lee’s.
“And man,” she agreed. “Have you looked at these before?”
“I took a cursory glance between calls last night. As of right now, nothing jumps out at me. But I’m happy to spend as much time with you as you need to go over them and get a grasp on what happened.”
“Well, this first one seems pretty cut and dry. Car fire, right?”
I nodded. “But both Lee and Stanhope were dead before the fire was set.”
Those curious, red-brown eyes latched onto mine and widened. “The fire didn’t kill them?”
“Nope. My brother is the sheriff, and he told me the causes of death for both were gunshot wounds to the head. Buckshot, according to department reports.”
“A hunter?” she asked.
I shrugged. “They were up on the ridge overlooking town that’s only accessed by a woods road, so it could be. Could be they’re not connected to the other ten victims at all. But it was also the first incident of its kind in the area that can’t be attributed to some cops and robbers type shit from the twenties and thirties, and the timing is a little too convenient to be a one-off.”
“Timing?”
“You’re aware of the Prom Night Arsonist moniker.” She nodded, and I patted the box at my side. “Each of these incidents happened on a Dusk Valley prom night, including Vicky and Roger’s deaths. In fact, they’d both been crowned king and queen that night and were dead a few hours later.”
A full-body shudder overtook Aspen. “That’s…horrible. Have you ever worked one of these?”
I nodded. “My first year at the department. I was only a lieutenant back then,” I said, shooting her a wink. “But it was…brutal. Poor girl was found in the school bus garage. All that gasoline…” I gave into a shudder. “Took us hours to knock it down, and by then she was…well, I’ll spare you the details.”
I could still remember the distinct scent of burning flesh permeating the air, mixing with the gas and smoke. The odor was so strong, my SCBA had done nothing to filter it out. Unfortunately, I’d been the one to find her, and I’d never forget the sight of her blackened body.
I’d worked some awful fires in Chicago that had claimed lives, but there was a difference when it happened in your hometown and the victim was a girl you knew in that same way everyone in small towns knew everybody else.
“Captain?” Aspen prompted, pulling me from my memories .
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Whatever you need, you’ve got my and the fire department’s full support.”
“Thanks, Crew,” she said, her warm smile quelling my discomfort brought on my bad memories.
My name sounded so fucking good rolling off her tongue. I wanted to hear it again and again—preferably with my face between her thighs.
Returning it, I said, “No problem.”
Bonnie appeared with our food then, and while we ate, conversation drifted from the case toward more personal things. I was amazed by how easy talking to her was, and I found myself excited about the prospect of having this woman in town for a while.
I looked forward to rolling around in the sheets with her. Somehow, I knew we’d end up there.
No strings, no drama.
Exactly the way I liked it.