Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
L ike always, Frank had opened his mouth before his brain had checked in.
His car?
A DeLorean?
Not fucking likely on a firefighter’s paycheck.
He had no clue what had made those words come flying out of his mouth, but it was too late to take it back now—especially since this was the first time Katie Madigan had spoken to him since that night at Marinos AKA the best night of his fucking life.
If only it hadn’t been followed by total radio silence. She was a no-show at the Station Nine’s poker games hosted by her brothers. That gave everyone else an actual chance at winning, but Frank would have gladly sacrificed his light bill money to see her there. Then, there were the times he’d called her house, and heard her in the background, telling her sister to tell him that she wasn’t home.
Ouch.
He may not be the smartest guy in Waterbury, or the one with the fattest wallet, but still, women liked him. Women always liked him. Katie Madigan sure as hell had liked him a lot back in November—but not anymore.
Fine.
He could take a hint.
He could leave her alone.
He could pretend that he didn’t think about her every damn day.
A person didn’t need a genius IQ for that.
What he couldn’t do, though, was leave her to deal with Blane Alder after he saw what she’d done to his dick-compensation-mobile. The prick would probably call his dad. And the mayor. And some expensive Harbor City lawyer. They’d all come down on Katie, to the point that she’d be the lead story on the six o’clock news.
Frank couldn’t let that happen. He had to do something to save her—and quick.
Luckily, there had been a bodacious blonde behind the concessions counter when Rocky III got out, drawing Alder and his crew of preppy douchebags like arsonists to a match. That gave Frankie an extra five minutes to get Katie away from the scene of her crime before Alder walked out of the theater and saw what she’d done to his baby.
“Your car?” Katie’s green eyes went wide. “How is that possible?”
Good question.
That was the thing with her. She always had questions. About everything and it wasn’t just to make conversation. She actually wanted to know the whys, the hows, the what fors.
Fine, so he’d been watching her, fascinated, for a lot longer than the night at Marinos. Katie burrowed her way into his brain the very first time she’d walked into the firehouse to drop off a lunch for her dad. She’d asked a million questions about everything from the fire pole to the fire helmets. He’d though maybe it was just a bunker bunny thing, but he doubted it. Why? Because there was absolutely no flirting. It was more of an interrogation than an excuse to talk to a firefighter.
It was not the usual reaction he got from women.
Then he’d started playing poker with the Madigan brothers and found out the questions weren’t just a one-off thing. She’d wanted to know the reasoning behind almost everything. Yes, she could have been playing it up to knock her brothers off their games (she did win at least six out of every ten hands), but that didn’t mean her curiosity wasn’t genuine—and hot as hell.
“Earth to Frank,” Katie said, yanking him back to the FUBAR situation he’d gotten himself into. “Since when is this your car?”
“Three this morning,” he said, inspiration hitting him like a slap upside the head. He leaned against the car as if it was his instead of a car that cost three times what he’d paid two years ago for his used Firebird. “Poker game.”
One of her eyebrows went up. “Did you cheat?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who would pull some crap like that?” He was a lot of things, but he was honest.
Usually.
If you didn’t count right now.
Fuck.
“I’ve played poker with you,” she scoffed with that crooked smile of hers, as she tucked a piece of her reddish brown hair behind her ear. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Since he wasn’t going to admit he always got distracted from his cards by watching her, he bought some time by glancing down at his watch. His gut dropped when he saw two minutes were already gone.
Shit.
He looked back over his shoulder at the theater’s door. No Adler, but he had to be coming soon. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about that right now.”
“Why not?” she asked.
Again with the questions.
What in the fuck was wrong with him that he was getting turned on and annoyed at the same damn time? He didn’t have time for this.
They didn’t have time for this.
He had to get her out of there. Now. Short of throwing her over his shoulder, he had no fucking clue how to do that.
A loud car honk blasted through the early evening air, yanking their attention toward the vehicles speeding down a four-lane road toward the exit for the bridge into the city. Frank sent a quick thank you heavenward.
“Because,” he said. “I have to be in Harbor City, and you trashed my car, which means you’re going to take me to make up for this.” He wiped a finger through the smudge of melted chocolate on the outside of the DeLorean’s door and then held it up in front of her.
Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Can’t someone else do it? What about your brother?”
Finally, something he didn’t have to lie about. “He’s on shift at the firehouse. So is my dad.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He wasn’t as close as they were in the closet at Marinos, but there wasn’t a lot of light from the setting sun between them. “My mom can’t help because she’s visiting her sister in Boca.” His whole body tightened, being this near her. Tall with the kind of full curves that a man could really sink into, she wasn’t a delicate flower. Fuck, she was mostly thorns, and God help him; he wanted to kiss, lick and rub every one. “You’re it, Katie Madigan.”
The air around them snapped and sizzled with something he couldn’t name. It was like a summer storm’s first bolt of lightning was about three seconds from cracking the sky in half, and he was a lone man on a hill holding a golf club straight up in the air.
Katie bit down on her bottom lip. He had to fist his hands to keep from reaching for her. Now wasn’t the time.
Later.
Please, God, let there be a later.
“Fine,” she said, her voice husky all of a sudden as she pulled her keys out of her purse. “Come on.”
They started toward her car. He’d made it three steps before a different kind of awareness made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Before he even glanced back, he knew in his gut what he was going to see, and he wasn’t wrong.
Alder and his friends had walked out of the theater and were headed for the trashed DeLorean.
Adrenaline rocketing through his veins, Frank pressed his hand to the small of Katie’s back and started fast walking, propelling her forward with him. They had about thirty seconds before the shit hit the fan. As soon as they got to her Pinto, he took the keys from her and unlocked the passenger door, and held it open for her.
Wide-eyed, she stared up at him. “Do you think you’re driving my car?”
“Katie, I love that you want to know everything about everything, but now is not the time.” He gave her a light shove into the passenger seat. “Sorry, but we gotta motor.”
He shut the passenger door on her shocked face and booked it around to the driver’s side. He unlocked the door right as the unmistakable sound of Yuppie rage rang out across the parking lot. Alder’s face was as red as the station firetruck when they locked eyes.
“Hartigan!” Alder yelled. “I’m gonna get you for this.”
Cocky smile in place, Frank gave that declaration all the respect it deserved by flipping the bird at the shithead. As long as he left Katie alone, Alder could come after Frank all he wanted.
Ignoring the other man’s hollering, Frank slid into the Pinto’s driver’s seat—or at least he tried to. There were definitely disadvantages to being six-six, and fitting into a subcompact was one of them. Katie was almost six feet, but Frank’s knees were nearly pressed into his chest when he folded himself behind the steering wheel, then reached beneath the seat for the lever that would slide it as far back as it would go.
Shooting Katie a grin that she did not return, not even a little bit, he pressed the clutch to the floor and turned the key in the ignition.
If this had been a movie, this was when he would have left behind nothing but burned rubber and the lingering scent of victory.
Instead, the piece of shit Pinto’s engine didn’t catch until the second try and then wheezed in its effort to pick up speed as he drove toward the parking lot’s exit. He shifted into the next gear and kept his eyes on the straight shot out of the parking lot even as Alder’s yelling got louder.
Fucking A. Did that douche canoe still run every day like he had in high school?
Frank checked the rearview mirror. Alder wasn’t gaining ground, but he was sprinting toward them like a dog after the mail truck. Seriously, Frank wouldn’t have been surprised if the asshole was foaming at the mouth like a rabid canine.
Returning his gaze to the road, he slowed down just enough to do a California Roll at the stop sign where the parking lot spilled out onto Crushing Avenue. Frank checked the crossroad and was just about to punch it when a loud splat sounded. He and Katie whipped their heads around just in time to watch a Styrofoam cup that had been filled with bright green soda, judging by the new tint to the glass, slide down the back window.
“Hartigan!” Alder bellowed. “I’m going to get you!”
Yeah, he might, but not right now.
Frank shifted into top gear and punched the gas. They rocketed (as much as the Pinto could) out onto Crushing. The exit sign for the Harbor City Bridge was right ahead, and he was grinning like he’d won in life when he glanced over at Katie.
She wasn’t smiling.
Those full pink lips of hers weren’t even kinda turned up at the sides.
Nope.
The woman he’d just saved—even if she didn’t know it—was shooting him a look that would have shriveled the balls of a lesser man.
“Frank Hartigan,” she said, making his name sound like a curse. “What in the hell is going on?”