Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Finn
Giancarlo eyed me. “You didn’t get laid on the weekend, did you?”
I glared.
He grinned. “Hey, you’re so easy to read. You went to Langley on Friday night hoping to score. This hangdog Monday morning look tells me you did not.”
Pursing my lips, I considered his words.
Giancarlo brushed his overlong hair to the side. When he wore his mask, his hair was always pushed back. His midnight-black locks always had a glean to them. With his tanned skin, perfect teeth, and jovial nature, Giancarlo was the perfect package.
For women.
I sighed. He would totally be someone I was into.
Except for that little straight thing. Not even a slight bend. Ever.
But he was always game to be my wingman, so that was awesome. And in turn, I’d talk him up to interested ladies.
“Uh, where’s Marlon?” I scanned the truck bays, trying to find our shiftmate.
“Asleep.” Giancarlo buffed a tire on one of the engines.
I hadn’t seen a scuff. He was always far better at keeping things pristine. I lived in a rustic cabin in the woods. Dirt and muck were a way of life. At least I always made my bed. Mostly because I never knew when Mom might drop by. “Asleep again? It’s the middle of the day.”
“Well, you know he needs his beauty sleep. You want to work out or something?”
“Or something?” I grasped his biceps. I might be ripped, but he was pretty buff too.
I took pride in my looks. We needed to be in tiptop shape for this job.
Some guys, after they made the team full time, didn’t put in as much effort.
I was never going to do that. I was never going to let anyone down.
Miriam emerged from the kitchen. “Either of you two hungry? I made way too much spaghetti.”
“Never going to turn that down.” Giancarlo bounded into the kitchen.
“He’s in good spirits.” Miriam held my gaze.
“Yeah, today’s a good day.” He’d had more than a few bad ones since the fire in February that killed a young woman.
Giancarlo had been responsible for checking the room we later found her in.
He still carried a damn heap of guilt. The fact he’d been injured trying to save her didn’t mitigate his feelings.
He’d seen a psychologist to work through the intensity of his emotions.
I tried not to notice how often he still was down because I felt almost as guilty.
We’d found the victim and gotten her out of the building, but she’d been badly burned and, blessedly, had never woken up.
Her life would’ve been an ongoing nightmare.
Sometimes death was a better outcome. A philosophy I hated, but I’d met enough burn victims to know resiliency only went so far. “Spaghetti, eh?”
“Yep. And you know—”
The alarm sounded.
Giancarlo strode out of the kitchen while stuffing a piece of garlic bread into his mouth.
Dispatch let us know this was a medical emergency on 12th Avenue.
We were ready to go, but Marlon still hadn’t appeared.
Miriam, the driver today, laid on the horn.
Fuck. I don’t have time to run upstairs.
“We go without him.” I shouted the words even as Miriam put the truck in gear and we headed out.
The drive wasn’t far and a stout man at the end of a driveway was our first clue we’d found the place.
I was out of the rig in a flash. I grabbed my medical gear and made my way over to him.
“My daughter.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “She no wake up.”
Since the guy couldn’t have been older than about sixty, I tried to recalibrate my expectations. We hadn’t been given an age of the patient—everyone had been too distraught to answer questions. So we’d raced up here and figured we’d get this sorted once we arrived.
Giancarlo and I followed the man into the house and up a staircase.
The daughter—no more than twenty-five—lay on the floor.
The foaming at her mouth and her grayish-tinged skin worried me.
Still, I got down to doing the basics—figuring out if she was breathing, if she was bleeding, and if she still had circulation.
Unfortunately, the answer to all was no.
Well, no bleeding wasn’t a bad thing—but the rest was.
Still, I had to try. I donned gloves and attempted resuscitation with Giancarlo’s help.
The paramedics arrived and immediately took over, but clearly we were fighting a losing battle.
Likely drugs.
Either an overdose or intentional.
Not going to make it.
Dejectedly, I made my way back to the rig.
Marlon stood next to Miriam grinning as though he’d teleported out of thin air.
She was pissed.
I offered her a grimace that attempted to convey both the fact our patient wasn’t going to make it, and that I felt badly she’d been stuck with Marlon.
The paramedics, with Giancarlo’s assistance, loaded the patient into the ambulance.
We all stood still until the sirens disappeared.
The older gentleman emerged from the house, trying to put on a coat.
Giancarlo stepped toward him. “Slowly, okay? Let’s get you into your jacket. Where are your keys?”
Even as Giancarlo said the words, the man pivoted and headed back into the house.
Marlon snickered.
Miriam whacked him.
Hard.
The man reemerged and Giancarlo helped him get into the car, urging him to drive slow and be safe.
We probably shouldn’t have let him drive, but we didn’t have the ability to take away his keys. At the moment, he had hope. The hard part would be when the doctors at the ER called time of death.
“Let’s go.” Miriam glared at Maron who shrugged.
I cocked an eyebrow. “How did you get here?”
“Dad gave me a ride.” He puffed his chest as if getting a ride from his father was a good thing.
Since I didn’t spot Chief now, that meant we’d be taking Marlon back to base on the rig.
He sat in the back and was on his phone the entire time—the phone that was supposed to be back at the station.
Once we had the truck backed in, I started—with Giancarlo and Miriam—to restock what equipment we’d used.
Miriam sighed. “Another one.”
I double-checked our bandages—even though we hadn’t used any. “Part of the job.”
“The part I hate.”
“Addiction sucks.” I couldn’t fault Miriam. We all struggled with the opioid crisis.
Miriam wanted legal answers.
Maybe because my mother was a nurse, I looked at the problem through the medical lens, as a disease.
In the end, though it made no difference. Our neighbors were dying of the scourge, and we hadn’t found an effective way of dealing with the problem or the victims.
“I’m hungry.” Giancarlo offered a measured smile. Likely uncertain of what to say.
“Yeah.” Miriam offered a smile. “All good.” Then, as if shaking off her mood, she strode over to the breakroom.
Giancarlo gave me that look.
“You fucking asshole!” Miriam’s cry rang through the fire hall.
I sprinted over—Giancarlo fast on my heels.
We arrived to find Miriam pointing to her pot of pasta and Marlon digging into a mountain of pasta on his plate.
Jesus. Not just incredibly rude…but with no sense of self-preservation. Everyone knew spaghetti was Miriam’s favorite meal, and we never took any unless she offered—which she often did. Just not to Marlon.
None of us shared with Marlon.
One might think he’d take the hint.
He never did.
“What?” He actually said the word with his mouth full of food.
“Dude, that’s so gross.” I tossed him a cloth napkin. “Cover your mouth if you speak with your mouth full.”
“Or better, don’t speak at all.” Giancarlo’s glare matched Miriam’s.
Marlon swallowed. “I didn’t see a name on it.”
I rolled my eyes. He’d have been better off keeping his fucking mouth shut.
“Because we were out on a call. A call you were late to. You should get written up.” She had her hands on her hips and was spitting mad.
I didn’t blame her. We also knew he’d never be written up—what with his daddy being the fire chief and all.
Glad to see nepotism is still alive and well. I walked over to the pot of spaghetti on the stove. “Plenty for you, Miriam. Since you made it.”
“I made enough to share.”
“See? So why’s everyone upset I’m having some?” Marlon said with a shit-eating grin.
“Because I made enough for Giancarlo and Finn.” Miriam gazed into the pot. “There’s barely enough for me—let alone the guys.”
“I was thinking a burger anyway.” Giancarlo rubbed his belly. “Isn’t it great we can get anything we want delivered?” He grabbed the fast-food menus we’d accumulated. “I’m thinking A&W. Gotta love the onion rings. You with me, Finn? I’ll pay.”
Ever the peacemaker.
Now I could smell the tomato sauce, however, I really wanted pasta. I could get some from Boston Pizza—but A&W would be faster. And my stomach was growling. “Sure. Sounds great. I’ll pay the next time.”
“Fantastic.” Giancarlo went in search of his cell phone.
I eyed Marlon. “Dick move. Maybe clear out so Miriam can eat her food in peace?”
“Nothing wrong with me hanging around here.” He gestured expansively “The room’s for everyone. The bitch—” He pretended to wince. “—sorry, the lady, is welcome here. Even though she shouldn’t be.” He scowled. “In fact, I’m outta here.”
He took his plate with him—which meant we’d find it abandoned somewhere later with a crusty layer of red sauce on it.
“Gross.” Miriam poked the wooden spoon into the pot. “Do you suppose he spit in it?”
I winced. “I wouldn’t think so—since he might’ve planned to steal more later.”
My response should’ve been a hard no. Except Marlon really had a bug up his ass about Miriam. DEI hire and all that bullshit. The truth was she was a hundred times better than him. Partly because she had to prove herself over and over and mostly because she worked so damn hard.
Nepo baby was just a jackass who barely completed his required training, and who never put effort into anything.
“Food’s ordered.” Giancarlo popped his head back in. And I got extra fries.” He grinned.
For Miriam. Because that was the kind of guy he was.
The bell went off, and dispatch’s voice rang through.
Miriam tossed her pot into the sink with a muttered curse.
I said thanks to the powers that be we’d have an admin person here to sign for the food delivery and a microwave to heat it up later.
Then we were off.