The Firefighters Of Darling Bay: Fire At Dusk Part 4

Thats perfect, Samantha, he said again.

But she wasnt doing it right. She could feel it. She could feel the heat of the boys blood seeping through the towel, through her fingers. She was kneeling in the childs blood. She didnt know for sure if Hank could actually tell if the boy was going to be fine or not.

But then he said it again. h.e.l.l be fine, Samantha. Because of you.

Her hands finally stopped shaking.

After Hanks coworkers on the ambulance left with the boy, and after the boys mother had been tracked down by phone and directed to the emergency room where Hank continued to maintain he would be fine, after Hank had walked her back up the stairs, keeping his hand on the small of her back which Samantha was more grateful for than shed ever admit, after hed ushered her into the bathroom, telling her to take a hot shower, and that while she did that, hed make her a cup of tea"did she like it black or with milk?"after she came out wrapped in her robe because her hands were shaking again, too much to b.u.t.ton up her clean jeans, after all of that, when she looked into Hanks warm brown eyes, Samantha said, You got the job.

Well, said Hank, handing over her favorite yellow mug and then opening the French doors so a meowing Anchor could come in. Thats just fine, then.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

HANK, IT TURNED out, was Jim Hinds height but not near his shape. The padded suit hung loosely at his hips where Jim was wider, but it was tight across the chest. It was itchy, too. And hot. Hank was already sweating, and hed just put it on a few minutes before.

You put on your cup, too, right?

You know its embarra.s.sing for a guy to be asked that, right?

Why? Samantha was looking knock-out gorgeous again"all big green eyes and pink-cheeked, dressed simply in a black tank top and yoga pants. Her outfit formed to her curves in a way that would have made him uncomfortable if he hadnt been wearing a cup. Luckily, he was, and that was something of a buzz-kill.

Because were talking about my package here. He made a gesture with his hands toward his crotch. My large, well-endowed, extremely precious package, might I add? Stay cla.s.sy, Coffee.

Noted, Samantha said. So it doesnt embarra.s.s you to say that?

Nah, said Hank, glad he had the helmet on and that she couldnt see his eyes. Simple truth doesnt make a man blush. He held out his arms, feeling a little like the Michelin Man in the get-up. What now?

Now I see if I can make you scream like a little girl.

Is that politically correct for you to say? I mean, given that youre in the job of training women?

She shrugged and Hank was momentarily mesmerized by the way her bare shoulder rose and fell, the way the top of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s looked supported by that bra which was (thankfully) doing a bad job of holding her flatly down. I train women. Not little girls.

Because they scream like Im about to.

Exactly.

Glad to know.

Now, get onto the mat, okay?

Easy for you to say. Hank couldnt say with any certainty at all where his feet were going to land, and he was still trying to get the knack of seeing downward out the mesh eyeholes. How am I supposed to move around in this at all?

You get the hang of it.

How do you know? Do you ever have to wear this?

She laughed and bounced on her toes. She was barefoot, which surprised him. Maybe she was going to go easy on him at first. That was fine, hed take it.

Yeah, I use it sometimes. Just to remember what it feels like.

Something about her voice was different. Darker on the last few words. She meant something more, but there was no way in h.e.l.l he was going to ask her to explain if he couldnt really see her, couldnt meet her eyes with his own.

Briskly, Samantha said, Okay. Are you ready?

Will you tell me again what youre going to do before you do it?

Just like youre getting a pap smear, she said.

For G.o.ds sake, he groaned.

And then she kneed him in the nuts.

Hank dropped to his knees with a shout. Hey! You said youd warn me! It didnt hurt, exactly, but the pressure of the blow had been so forcefully directed that it was more like it should have hurt.

I lied. And she punched him in the head.

Oh, my G.o.d, he groaned, lying on the mat as he faced the ceiling. I dont know why Im doing this.

She crouched, moving slowly around his body. It had only been two blows, but it felt like more.

I think youre hitting my psyche. Is that possible?

Samantha straightened. She put her hands on her hips and laughed out loud, such a pretty, happy sound that if hed been able to figure out how to sit up, he would have, just to get a better look at her. Thats it! she exclaimed. You got it in two!

Good! he said. Were done for the day!

Just getting started, buddy. But yeah, thats exactly it. We dont fight fair here. You lie. You sneak. You attack. You make your prey feel like shes winning and just when she thinks she has you, you explode into motion again and pin her down until she cries. Then if she doesnt stop crying, you yell at her and let her up and knock her down again.

That got him sitting up. Hank yanked off his helmet. No.

Samantha looked at him, her lips pressed into a firm line. Its fine. Most people cant do it.

I mean, no. Why do you do it this way?

She walked away, across the room to a blue bag shed left on the floor. She got a water bottle out, and took a sip. Slowly, she came back toward him and without saying anything, offered him the bottle.

He drank.

Because its important that a woman knows she can do it.

You need tricks for that? Lying? Doesnt seem fair to me. Hank stuck his legs out straight in front of him. The only thing he could see of his body that he recognized were his work boots, poking out from the bottom of the thick white suit.

Samantha pushed at the bridge of her nose as if she were pus.h.i.+ng up the gla.s.ses she wasnt wearing. You dont get it.

Get what?

She tilted her head and looked at him as if rea.s.sessing him. No, I love that you dont.

Im missing something.

I love that youve never had to think about this. That it doesnt exist in your mind. It also infuriates me that it doesnt. She dropped so that she was sitting on her knees, her legs folded beneath her. Women dont get to make that choice. Whether something is fair or not. When a woman is attacked by a guy on the street, he doesnt ask politely whether she prefers to be hit in the face or punched in the gut.

Hank winced.

When a woman wakes up to find a man she doesnt know kneeling over her in her own bed, holding her down as he rapes her while he holds a gun to her temple, she doesnt get a polite thank you when hes done. She gets hurt. She gets damaged, and most of the time she ends up damaged forever. Theyre the liars. Theyre the ones who usually win. But in here, we win. And we do it fair and square. When one of my students finishes a fight on top, she got there because she fought with her fists and knees and knuckles all the way there, not because she learned fancy moves with names she cant p.r.o.nounce that dont do much more than help her abs.

She was making total sense, but he hated the fact that he might make a woman cry. On purpose.

In Darling Bay, they just didnt get the terrible crimes that big cities in California got. This wasnt San Francisco or Los Angeles. Darling Bay was just a sleepy northern town where their biggest problem was with the pot growers. Dealers tended to be armed as well as stoned, which wasnt a great combination. But apart from torching their own production shops with alarming regularity when the Feds got too close, creating fires that smelled like an outdoor music festival, the people up in the hills were mostly okay. Very few robberies were committed in Darling Bay, and the police force dealt with no more than one murder a year.

But rape happened. Again, not often, but it did happen. Hank had gone on a call earlier in the year in which a young woman, only eighteen, had been pulled off a running trail at the beach and dragged into the manzanita brush. The rapist wasnt a Darling Bay person"he been a tourist pa.s.sing through. Theyd never caught him. Hank thought of that girl sometimes, shaking so hard her teeth clattered, begging them to let her shower, Bonnies arms around the girl before loading her carefully onto the ambulance, treating her as if she were a broken sand dollar. He wondered if she ever felt safe"really, truly safe. Even if she had a huge boyfriend who worked out"a guy who was a trained bodyguard and carried three guns and a knife"there would be times in her life when shed be walking alone at night. There would be times shed be in her kitchen, alone, her spatula poised over the stir-fry, wondering if the sound shed just heard was the dog in the other room or someone breaking a window.

Hank hated the man whod done it to her, whod broken her like that. Who had, in many ways, ruined a large, important part of her whole life. Hank, who knew he would have had a hard time hating the very devil himself knowing that the guy was probably a pretty interesting drinking companion, hated that man whod no doubt gone on to hurt other women, maybe without ever getting caught.

Show me, he said. He cleared his throat roughly. Show me how to help them.

Samantha threw her arms around him, catching him off guard. No blow here, just a hug that he could feel all the way through the padded suit. Hug them first. Hug them when you meet them, and hug them before and after each session.

He hugged her back. Finally. Something he could probably get right.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

HANK AMAZED HER.

Hed thrown himself into the training session, heart and soul. The first time shed flown at him, hed stumbled backward, protecting himself naturally with upraised arms. The second time, though? Hed fought back. She could tell he wasnt coming at her one hundred percent, and of course he wasnt. His whole job"his whole life"was about protecting people. Not pus.h.i.+ng them, pinning them down, bringing them to a point where they could heal themselves.

But Hank had brought maybe eighty percent to their session. It was impressive.

Of course, she knew the moves by heart. She didnt have to think when she was ripping his arm away from her shoulder, using her lower body weight to flip him onto his back. He got her down once, but she could tell that he hadnt expected for her to start kicking as hard as she did. Yeah, hed get used to that pretty soon. A womans greatest strength was in her legs, and driving kicks at an attacker from a position on the ground was not only shocking but effective. Good. Hed reacted like a normal attacker, whatever that was, automatically retreating from her forward a.s.sault.

Breathing hard, she stood and signaled for him to take off his helmet.

What? Was that wrong? His face was flushed from exertion, and sweat dripped from the dark hair that hung at his eyes.

How could a man wearing a padded suit be so hot? She shouldnt be reacting to him like this.

It was his eyes. She had to ignore those dark smoky eyes, the way they seemed to ask something of her, something she couldnt put her finger on.

She leaned forward, putting her hands on her hips, taking a deep, delicious gulp of air. No. Youre doing awesome. Perfect.

Good! He frowned. I mean, not good. Wait. Is that good?

She laughed. Yeah. It is. Wanna take that suit off?

d.a.m.n straight. Im dying in here. He unsnapped and unzipped, stripping out of the suit. Hed worn what shed told him to"a T-s.h.i.+rt, shorts, and his heavy work boots.

The thing was, Samantha hadnt thought about the fact that shed get to see him in a whole lot of his glory. Those legs, for example. His considerable height was all in those legs, those extremely muscled limbs. Do you ride a bike?

He looked confused. Naturally. A motorcycle?

Nah, she said. I hate motorcycles. I meant a bicycle. Your She gestured at his legs, feeling suddenly very young and stupid. You have a lot of muscles.

Hank grinned. Well, thanks. I think you must just be impressed by my black uniform socks tucked into my boots. Now, if you dont mind, Ive got to go Take off the cup. Of course he did.

And then I need a shower like a rookie on his first house fire.

Yeah, yes. I cant thank you enough. You did great. She handed him the water bottle, and somehow, watching his Adams apple bob as he swallowed seemed more intimate than anything else theyd done. Hed manhandled her in the training, and shed sat on top of his body, her face next to his ear. At one point shed had him lie on top of her"the way they did with the students who had a history of being trapped by a man in bed"and it had been all business. Hed been the attacker.

But now, the combination of the plane of his jaw, s.h.i.+ny with sweat, the stubble around his mouth, and the way his fingers accidentally brushed hers as he handed back the bottle made something inside of Samantha quake. You did great, she said again.

I want to take you out.

Good grief. He was so blunt. She put the cap back on the bottle, tightening it so much she probably wouldnt be able to get it off later. What?

I need to tell you that. I want to work with you, professionally, yes. I think what you told me about the way we can help your students is one of the best things Ive heard in years. If I can help them protect themselves, to make them feel safe, then thats truly admirable. But d.a.m.n, Samantha. I want to kiss you so bad I cant stand it and since Im never going to do it while were training, Ive got to get you somewhere else to try my luck.

There was a half-smile on Hanks face. A sweet smile.

And at the same time it was so s.e.xy her toes curled.

I cant. We cant. Not if were going to work together.

Okay. I quit.

Honestly surprised, Samantha said, No! I need you.

Then go out with me.

She twisted the bottle in her hands. In about one second shed start stripping the paper from it with nervous fingers, the way she used to strip beer bottles sitting at the bar.

He continued, Just once. Just give it a shot. Its probably a bad idea, just like it was back then.

It hadnt been a bad idea. Shed just been an idiot, that was all. But time went on, and life changed, and people like Hank stayed good and sweet and unspoiled. Hank, she said slowly, I hurt you back then. I dont want to do that again.

He barked a laugh. Are you still worried about that?