Page 11 of Redwood Blaze (Black Timber Peak Hotshots #1)

TEN

MILLIE

I come back inside from getting a little fresh air and my phone’s buzzing on the table. I grab it and slide the bar to accept.

“Hello? Rusty… I mean, Callum?” I say, my heart beating faster.

I would always stop my heart from doing it’s little speed up trick when he would come into my office. Mostly with willpower, but some out of necessity so that I didn’t have a cardiac event and need to go to the hospital. The man is sheer sex appeal and my heart knows what it wants.

“I fucking knew you’d go slumming with a hot —fuckin’— shot. You always did have a thing for them.”

But the voice on the other end isn’t Rusty.

“Well, you would know, asshole.”

I know what I’m doing isn’t smart. Antagonizing the monster only leads to the monster growing.

“Like this piece of shit, Ass Supe Russ? I guess he’s your new beau, right?”

My heart sinks. I thought maybe he stole the phone from the office, but he’s with Rusty?

“Where’s Rusty?” I ask much calmer than the spike in my blood pressure should allow.

“Laying on the ground. The dumbass should remember the first rule?—”

“Never take off your hat,” we say together.

There was one thing I’d forgot to mention to Cole and Rusty. The fact that my ex was an ex-hotshot as well. I’d dipped my pen in the company inkwell more than once, which is probably why I fought trying to write another story with anyone for so long and especially with another hotshot.

“Did you… have you…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

“He’s fucking alive, but he won’t be when the backburn line I set makes it to him. Unless…”

“What? Unless I what, Gideon?” I’m not sure what I’m willing to do, but I know what I’m not willing to do.

“Oh, you can call me Blake now.”

My stomach crashes. That was my partner back in Diamond Ridge.

“What did you do to Blake?”

“Paid him a little visit. You didn’t think that I came to all of this information all on my own, did you? He’s probably nursing a bigger goose-egg than this piece of shit will have, but your guy, Russ, went down easier than Blake. That motherfucker fought me.”

“Gideon, I swear to God, I’m going to hunt you down and?—”

“What? Hunt me down?” he chuckles brutally. “That’s classic. Fuck, Mill, you run so far and fast that I’d think you were a damn marathoner. You’ll just run, like you always do.”

“What do you want?”

“You. I want you to grovel.”

“For what?”

“Bitch… for me ! Let me know how much you need me.”

The protein bar I had for lunch makes a quick return trip and I’m running for a trashcan. I gargle with a drink out of the final bottle of water I have.

“No,” I say firmly.

“You want me to save this asshole, you’re going to agree to come with me.”

Save Callum or save myself?

“Fine. I need you, Gideon.”

To leave me alone.

There’s a long pause. Probably distracted by his own image in the reflection of his phone screen to focus on what truly mattered. But that’s the thing about narcissists. They twist the world to their liking and expect everyone else to play along.

“Millicent, come on. You know I hate when you don’t play nice,” his voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and demanding.

I can almost picture him, leaning back against a tree like he has all the time in the world, a wicked grin plastered on his face, waiting for me to crumble under what he thinks is his power.

The sound of crackling wood makes my heart race— another tree succumbing to the flames, another piece of this forest dying while he toys with my emotions.

“No. I’m not gonna say it nicer. You know this isn't about you.” I grip the phone tighter, trying to give my words with the strength I can’t quite feel.

“Sure it is, babe,” he chuckles, the condescension dripping from his voice like thick honey. “We always make it about me. Isn’t that the game we play? Just admit it.”

In the distance, smoke billows into the sky, a dark omen against the bright blue. I can’t help but think how fitting it is, how the fire is a mirror of our own relationship— intense and destructive.

But it’s burnt out. Charcoal ruins.

“If you want me to say anything, you have to earn it, Gideon. Prove you can handle whatever mess you’ve made.” The words spill out of me faster than I can catch them, fueled by anger and a desperate wish for autonomy.

A silence hangs, heavy and weighted. I wonder if he’s frowning, his self-assured mask slipping.

“Prove? Please. You think it’s so simple? You should know by now, you’re the only one I keep coming back to.”

“Because I’m the only one you haven’t broken completely,” I mutter under my breath, my skin prickling with the truth of it.

He laughs again, but it’s hollow. “Words, Millicent, just words. Now, you can do better. Try it again. Say it the way I like it.”

Only he ever dared to use my real name. He was known for making fun of people and their names, and I endured constant ribbing. The worst thing I ever did was to show him that it got under my skin.

“Shit!” I hear a familiar crackle through the phone of a tree top crashing to the ground. “Fuckin’ fire.”

He was never made out for the job. He was too self-centered. Too thin-skinned.

“Where is he?” I scream in the phone.

“See, now you’ve gone and done it. Tell me where you are, or ginger-boy gets toasted like a marshmallow.”

“Fuck you, Gideon! You’re going back to jail!”

I step outside and into the phone I hear a blow horn go off.

Shit.

“Ahhh, you’re not more than two miles away. And I would say to the west since the fire’s moving east.”

“One that you set.”

His response is only a chuckle and, “One that will flush you out.”

I have to leave now. He’ll hunt me down. It’s time to run.

No. I’ll never be fine if I keep running.

Instead, I take a deep breath, feeling the rage ebb away just a little. He’s waiting for me to falter, to give in to his whims. I want to scream, but I can’t afford the backlash. Not now. It’s better to give the narcissist what he wants than tempt him to do what I don’t want him to.

“Fine,” I say finally, swallowing hard. “You want something nice? Gideon, you handle the fire like you handle everything else in your life— recklessly and without a care for what might happen to other people. And at least you’re consistent. There. Happy?”

There’s silence on the line, but it’s not the end.

It never is.

My heart races. Adrenaline coursing through me. I’ve said more than I intended. His reaction is likely to be like the crackle of burning wood— sharp and unpredictable.

“I guess that’s better,” he finally says. An odd teasing tone returns. One I know holds retribution, but he’s waiting for the perfect time. “You’ll learn a real lesson, Millicent. You always do.”

And just like that, I’m reminded of why I have to keep giving him what he wants, no matter how much it grates against my soul. In this game, sometimes surviving means playing by his rules, at least for a little longer.

“Where is Rusty?” I ask.

“Right where I left him.”

“Where is that, Gideon?”

This cat and mouse has to end.

“He’s got a fuckin’ beacon on his shoulder. I hit it. Someone should be saving his ass soon.”

Creates a problem to solve and then be a hero? Total narcissist.

“I gotta go. It’s getting too hot for me. Never liked that about this fuckin’ job. It was like living in hell.”

Well, you would know, devil.