Page 8 of Wanted: Forever (Murdock Brothers #3)

Parker

Keeping my in-office boundaries was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I’d been out on patrol all week. Mostly because the heatwave was making the people of my town crazy. There was barely a respite after the sun went down, it was just dark and humid instead.

Not that it mattered much to Cash.

He was in my air conditioning while I’d busted up parties every night. I was pretty sure it was the same kids on bikes. They were getting smarter with their location, but all far too young to be drinking and smoking.

My own frustration warred with empathy for the kids. I grew up in this town and knew how boring it was during the summers. We were just far enough away from the beaches of Saratoga Lake for a bike ride. And nothing was open late enough to occupy them.

I’d finagled an extra patrol into the schedule with me that night since there was a full moon. Ask any hospital worker or cop and they would agree full moon madness was a thing.

Around midnight, I rolled by the warehouse district, lowering my windows to listen for any voices or music. The usual spot was empty, and I was about to head out, when a popping noise made me turn the car off.

Indigo Valley had been a former factory town in the 70’s. Now they were just abandoned buildings and one more place for kids to get into trouble.

I slid out of my car, listening as I pulled out my flashlight.

Something skittered in the trash as I followed the sketchy alleyway between the old bottling plant and paper bag factory.

Laughter and music filtered through the night the closer I got to an open area at the back of the building.

Old, rusted out barrels and broken pallets were scattered everywhere.

I crept back into the shadows and clicked my microphone on my shoulder. “I need backup to the old warehouses on Fuller Road.”

I turned down the reply speaker and heard Leroy’s affirmative then put it on silent as I eased into the shadows and doubled back around the building to see just how many were in this little party.

And if they were more dangerous than an underaged party.

I wasn’t stupid enough to walk in there alone. Even teens could be dangerous when their fear, flight, or fight was activated. No one wanted to get into trouble, especially in a small town where everyone knew their families.

I recognized a few of the kids, but the majority of the dozen were either unknowns or from another town.

I peered around the edge of the building. A bonfire roared from old pallets. All it took was one ember to fly and decimate this whole area. The town was a tinderbox with the endless heat and lack of rain.

It could easily catch along the scrubby grass and brush that had gathered in the interim years.

“Dammit,” I muttered to myself.

Maybe I’d need more backup than Trevor, my other patrolman tonight.

I waited another ten minutes, but Trevor still hadn’t arrived. The stench of weed was thick and the laughter had increased in the few minutes I’d arrived.

I couldn’t get my cruiser back here with all the debris, but I could use my bullhorn.

Sweat dripped off me as I jogged back to my car hoping to see another cruiser coming down the winding road.

No such luck.

I grabbed my bullhorn, hoping the badass cop voice I’d cultivated in Kansas City would do the trick. I didn’t think they were dangerous kids, but I’d learned never to underestimate hormones and the fear of getting caught.

As I quietly moved through the garbage and brush, I noticed an uptick of voices.

The flames of the pallets were way higher now. The kids were too high to see the danger in it. All ideas of stealth left me as I clicked on the speaker of my bullhorn.

“Police! You are trespassing!”

They all scattered and one stumbled, kicking a can full of pallet shards toward the flame.

It jumped down the dry wood making it even larger.

I hit my shoulder mic. “Leroy, where’s my backup? Call for the fire department. We’ve got flames getting out of control out near the old bottling plant on Fuller.”

“Trevor is dealing with a drunk driver accident on Liberty. On it for the fire department.”

“Goddammit.”

I dropped my bullhorn and looked around for anything that could help to beat the fire back into something more manageable.

The sound of a truck in the distance revved up my already spiking adrenaline. I did not need any more excitement tonight. I grabbed a slat of wood to sweep the debris into the fire to keep it from spreading out.

The growl of an engine had me swinging around.

The massive grill of a truck barreled down the alleyway, pushing away garbage like a battering ram. Was that Cash?

“Need a little help?” he called out the window.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was at the station when your call came in.”

“I am not deputizing you,” I shouted back.

“Wouldn’t that be a laugh?” He hopped out and ran around the back of his truck, coming out with fire extinguishers. He handed one to me then ran over to one of the barrels.

His arms bulged as he turned it on its side and scooped up the embers flying around as I attacked all the smaller fires that had popped up.

The fire extinguisher was no match for the flames that had spread, but we managed to contain it enough to give the nearby firefighters time to get to us.

Our town had a small volunteer firehouse on the far side of town.

The familiar sound of the sirens washed out some of the adrenaline powering through me.

Derrick and Win Hart clomped into the clearing, one with an axe and the other with a hose. “We’ll take it from here, Chief.”

I stepped back, more than willing to let them take over.

Derrick controlled the water as two more firefighters arrived, tamping down the smaller fires.

He pulled back the lever on the hose until it was a mist to cover the other wood and garbage so it wouldn’t catch again.

“Sorry it took us a minute to get here. We were helping out Trevor with that accident.”

I moved up until I was just behind him. “Any casualties?”

Win, the taller and broader of the two Hart brothers, paused from his bashing. “Yeah, it was a head on collision.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. The drunk driver was DOA.” Derrick hauled the length of firehose over to get another area.

I backed up next to Cash and we both watched the men systematically douse the fire. In between, I glanced over at his golden hair and skin kissed from the fire that was quickly fading out. He wore a muscle-shirt, cargo shorts, and his ever-present work boots.

His arms were slicked with sweat and soot.

The adrenaline redirected to pure lust.

“This could have been worse,” he said quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t know what I would have done without you. This week has already been insane, add in some full moon madness and here we are.”

He glanced down at me. His eyes dark now that the flames were little more than cinders. He pushed back his messy blond hair. “Is that what’s going on tonight?”

I laughed. “It’s a real thing as you can see.”

“I guess so.” He moved a little closer to me and pushed a lock of hair that escaped my braid out of my face. “You okay?”

“I’m good. Stupid kids.”

He grinned. “I seem to remember us being just as stupid once upon a time.” He glanced over at the ashes in the center of the crumbling pavement. “We were smart enough to leave the fire inside the barrels when I used to come out here.”

“Still stupid.”

He crossed his arms, and I tried not to notice how they bulged. The hot, fresh memory of those muscles throwing around the barrel dried my mouth.

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things, Parker.”

“Chief?”

I turned to the voice, spotting Trevor at the mouth of the alleyway. I glanced back at Cash. “I gotta go.”

He nodded. “I’ll find my way out of here.” He glanced around, then grabbed my hand. “I’ll be around later.”

My heart pounded in my ears and so much lower.

I nodded then slipped free of his calloused hand and ran over to Trevor. I got the details from the accident and that Marco Palmer was dead. His victim, Helen Morris, had been rushed to Albany Med and was in surgery.

God, that was the woman who had sold me my house.

What a damn mess.

The next few hours were chaotic. The mayor left three messages with Leroy while I was dealing with the aftermath of the fire, the accident, and all the paperwork that came with it.

I didn’t have any proof of who had started the fires near the bottling plant, but it was obvious that the area needed to be dealt with sooner than later.

We’d gotten lucky with the small fire, but it could have gone so much worse. The summer had been all heat and no rain for the last few weeks making things dangerous to begin with.

The minute I walked back into the station, I noticed how much brighter it was.

Not only had Cash fixed all the buzzing lights, but he’d replaced the last of the fluorescent lights with daylight style ones far easier on the eyes.

He’d also painted the dingy walls a blue gray that wouldn’t show dirt so easily.

I walked through the quiet room. It was well after six and we were in between the new shift start. Trevor was quietly tapping away at his keyboard with a cup of coffee in hand.

I slipped into my office, freezing as I walked in.

The drop ceiling tiles had been removed and wires hung down mid-progress.

However, over my desk, Cash had already pulled down the framing and instead of the unsightly wires, he’d tucked them up into more of those daylight recessed lighting from the main part of the station.

Drying joint compound neatly sealed the edges between ceiling and wall. Instead of doing the job the easier way, he’d made sure I had a spot to work without the chaos.

I collapsed into my chair, my eyes stinging.

Such a simple thing, but so appreciated.

I blinked away the tears and peeled back the heavy-duty Velcro of my vest. I unholstered my gun, locking it in my safe in my bottom drawer.

I’d sweat through everything, including the material over my Kevlar.

Grimacing, I dumped the whole thing into my bag to wash it at home.

I’d already changed into my backup shirt, which just left me cranky to add to the tired.

I pulled my keyboard out from under my screen to write up my report for the mayor. When my phone rang, I nearly ignored it.

Fatigue sat on me like a wet blanket.

Deciding I preferred sleep to having Mayor Finley blow up my phone all morning, I took the call. After the initial dressing down, we came to an understanding that the warehouses needed to be dealt with.

And I was in charge of finding the bodies to clean it up.

Yay me.

It was well past the end of my shift and the station was coming alive with the day crew. Lisa Dennings, my second in command, had everything in hand and shooed me out the door.

In the parking lot, Cash was leaning on the front of his truck. “Get in Parker.”

Tempted to argue, I looked around.

The Police Station was on Hope Street, along with most of the main businesses.

Anyone could see me getting into his truck.

He just folded his arms over his chest, waiting me out.