Fighting the Fire Read online

She let out a hiss as he wiped a thumb over her wrist.

  The pain started to ease, as he gently rubbed her hands with his fingers.

  “No more secrets. I know you were scrubbing the floor so I wouldn’t see the mark. I was raised on lies and secrets. I can put things together. Can you imagine what kids whispered behind my back? Things like, ‘Your dad’s a murderer, or your dad’s a drunk.’ But that was the truth, the lies came directly from him when he used to smack me around. He’d have excuses ready, like, ‘He fell off his bike’ or ‘He got hit on the playground.’ The hospitals even believed him for a while, until he put me in intensive care.” He gently patted at the reddened skin with a towel.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Cy’s gaze traveled over her as he hung the towel back on the metal loop. “You don’t need to be sorry. And you don’t have to be ashamed. I know you have no control over what’s inside you, so you don’t need to be sorry.” He stopped and sat down heavily on the chair in the corner of the room. “I have my own issues. The more time you spend with me, you’ll know that’s my number one rule. No lies.”

  Mia walked over to Cy and sat with her feet tucked under her on the floor. His arms hung heavy between his legs as he reached for her hand and brushed a thumb over the ridges between her fingers.

  “I wish I had some aloe or... something, your hands are still red,” he grumbled under his breath.

  “I’ll live,” Mia said. “Hey, what makes you think that I just didn’t get an overwhelming urge to scrub every inch of the concrete? Maybe my issue is that I have a compulsive cleaning disorder. It was kind of dirty, but not anymore. Man, you could eat off of it.” She didn’t know how to handle his caring. She could handle mean and nasty...but nice? She didn’t know what to say to him.

  “You’ve probably been awake half the night. Do you still want to go today? Or should we do it some other time?” Cy questioned.

  “No. I need to go now before I chicken out,” Mia confessed getting to her feet.

  “If you run, I’ll catch you and chuck you over my shoulder in a fireman hold.” A boyish grin lit Cy’s face, causing his blue eyes to twinkle with mischief.

  “Try it, Bucky. I’ve got a few moves of my own, so we’ll see who wins.”

  “Ooooo, tough girl. Bucky...I think that’s better than Cyril, isn’t it?”

  “I need to take a shower and get the rest of this junk washed off my skin. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Do you mind if I wait here?”

  Mia paused, then shook her head and headed off to the far side of the room.

  Chapter 8

  A large Shoji screen divided the room. Dresser drawers rustled as Mia pulled the screen closer to the shower. Her hand snaked out, opened the door, and turned on the water.

  Cy glanced at the books piled on the floor and picked one up. “Bedford Reader. You're taking college classes?” He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of the shower. He flipped open the book and skimmed it with his finger.

  “Online.”

  “You hadn’t mentioned it.”

  “It’s just English 101. When I get off work I use the computer in Mickey’s office to finish the lessons for that day.”

  He thought back to his own college days. “That’s what I call burning the candle at both ends. Working and going to school. It’s tough.”

  “I never did much while I was in school. I was always on the move.”

  “But now you want to go to school, that’s the difference.” He was suddenly proud she had decided to get college classes under her belt.

  Mia had pulled the screen over by the shower, but not all the way. Cy caught a flash of her bare hip as she entered the shower.

  Had she done that on purpose? He swallowed as steam billowed over the top fogging the door, but Cy still caught glimpses of her naked body.

  She had to know he could see her from where he was sitting. Cy tried to force his eyes back to the book, but the thought of seeing another glimpse of that glorious, coppery naked form overtook his plans of chivalry.

  The steam swirled and danced, but every few seconds he could see an arm, and a long graceful leg. Was that a breast?

  God help me...

  Cy shifted in the chair. He was mesmerized, hypnotized, by the sound of the water, like a cobra sensing the snake charmer. He felt himself grow stiff and his breathing deepened. He was going to have to use that shower with some very cold water in a second.

  The flowered fragrance of her shampoo wafted toward him. It was the smell he loved so much from her hair. He would never get tired of the jasmine and vanilla, it reminded him of a tropical paradise.

  Mia might be able to pass for Hawaiian with all that long, black hair. No, she was definitely Native American, but wrapped in a brightly flowered sarong? He closed his eyes and imagined what her hair would feel like brushing across his bare chest. Across his…

  He had to be stronger than this.

  No, I’m not. Who was he kidding?

  What he wanted to do was walk across the room, throw open the shower door, not caring if his clothes were still on or not, step under the spray, and feel all that glorious skin he had been glimpsing for himself. He started to get out of the chair, to act on his desire, when the thought crossed his mind. What if she hadn’t meant for him to see her and he was just a peeping Tom? A voyeur?

  “Shit. “

  He heard the water stop and knew the steam would begin to dissipate leaving nothing but Mia behind the fogged glass of the shower door.

  Cy sprang to his feet like he’d been rocket launched and ran for the stairs. “Who’s the chicken now?” he muttered.

  “Did you say something?” Mia called out.

  “I said I’ll wait for you outside.” Cy took two stairs at a time as he tried to put the memories of seeing her behind him and concentrated on walking straight against the nearly crippling erection.

  ****

  It had been a fluke that he’d seen Brennon go into the restaurant, but then he’d been curious as to why, so he waited.

  The closed sign was flipped, and the place was dark. He raised a hand to peer through the dusty windows, but he couldn’t see anyone inside. He had to be careful.

  Startling him, Brennon emerged from a side door of the restaurant walking briskly. Their gazes met for a second as Brennon muttered an uncomfortable, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he answered trying to keep the dark edge out of his voice. To say anything was difficult when all he wanted to do was choke the life out him. The same life Brennon’s father had choked from his family.

  A minute later, a woman appeared through the front door dressed in a pair of low-cut jeans and a red T-shirt. Brennon had walked to the corner espresso stand and bought lattes. He handed one to her, took the sunglasses off the top of his head, and dropped them back over his eyes.

  His breath caught as he suddenly realized it was the woman from the house he had burned. He’d seen her that night in the driveway. Narrowing his gaze he stepped around the edge of the building and watched Brennon run a hand up the woman’s arm, then down the flow of her hair.

  How had he missed this? Sweet mother of God, how had he missed this? He watched the two of them talk as his heartbeat thundered.

  This was a gift. A sign. The sign he had waited for and it was being handed to him like a Christmas package with shiny paper and a big bow. This was going to be good.

  ****

  Cy’s bright red pickup truck stood out. It was clean and shiny, mixed in with the other cars covered in a thick coating of summer dust.

  Mia flipped her sunglasses over her eyes and said, “You’re not one of those guys who washes his car every day, are you?”

  “Oh, hell no.” Cy laughed as he opened her door. “But since I have to wash the engine every day, I wash my truck before I put the buckets away. It’s a little perk. The engine’s big. It always takes longer than I think to wash it. When I was a boy it seemed huge, but now I think it’s huge because there ar
e so many places that can get dirty. Yesterday, Mario drove it through a muddy farm field just so I’d have more to wash.”

  “That wasn’t nice. Are you sure he’s your friend?”

  “He is. That is, when I don't want to kill him for something. He’s a good guy deep down ; you just have to look a little deeper than with his brother Mickey.”

  Mia took a drink from her cup. “Mickey’s a good man. I don’t know what I would have done without him. Hopefully, it can be cleared up soon with the insurance and I can get some of the money back to him. He co-signed on the loan. I know he doesn’t care, but I do. He’s got kids and not a lot of extra money. I feel terrible.”

  “These investigations take time. Don’t worry. They’re going to find another cause, and that you weren’t responsible in any way.”

  She blew out the breath she’d been holding. Cy didn’t seem concerned about it like she was. Why did he think her powers hadn’t been responsible for starting it? Why did he trust her, when she didn’t trust herself?

  “I’m not covering for you. I can see what you’re thinking written all over your face. You can stop feeling guilty.” Cy (flipped) the turn signal on and turned left at the stoplight. “Remember me? No lies? If I thought there was any chance that you were guilty of that fire I would tell the investigators.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” He leaned forward and turned the radio to an alternative rock station.

  “You grew up in Klahowya, and you don’t listen to country-western music?”

  “Why? Is that a prerequisite for living in a small town?”

  “No. I think it’s the cowboy boots I could never get used to. I’m an Indian. Isn’t there an unwritten law that I shouldn’t wear cowboy boots? Those flat beaded Indian sandals are more for raves, cowboy boots are for boot-kicking bar dancing.”

  “You in a country bar?” Cy laughed. “You’re full of it. With all those people around? I don’t believe you.”

  She shot him a grin. “You’re right, I’ve never been to one, though it sounds fun.”

  “That is if someone doesn’t step on you.”

  “I have a journal of things I’ve always wanted to do, that my—powers haven’t let me.”

  “Tell me one of them.” Cy chugged the last drink of coffee, and then tossed the cup under the seat.

  She shook her head, embarrassed.

  “I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”

  “I already told you one of mine, a bar. Now you.” Mia waved her hand back and forth through the wind, trying to pull air in through the window.

  “Skydiving. I’ve always been a little scared of heights ever since I was a kid. Going up an engine ladder, when it’s extended past one story, is my idea of hell. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

  “You want to jump out of a plane?”

  “I don’t like obstacles, and I always try to find a way around them. I thought if I could ever talk myself into skydiving, maybe the engine ladder wouldn’t seem like such a big deal. But, I still haven’t done it. I always have a million excuses.”

  “Maybe I’ll go with you. You know, push you out of the plane if you change your mind.”

  He threw her a glance. “All your beautiful black hair floating around you on the way down. It might be worth it.”

  “And...it would get caught in the parachute, and then wouldn’t open, and then splat.” She hit the dashboard with the palm of her hand.

  “Nah. I’d have to swoop in and save you. We’d share one parachute, hoping we didn’t eat too much for lunch and it would hold both of us.”

  “You think too much. Do you have an answer for everything?”

  “I try. Is that an ego or what?”

  She loved watching his face and the many moods it reflected.

  Anger. Sadness. Goofy. Passionate. That was one she didn’t want to think about. Every time she was around him she could feel how much he wanted her, and sometimes it was hard to breathe, his emotions were so strong.

  She’d only been able to give him a few schoolgirl kisses. Well, maybe a little more than a schoolgirl. But still, from town, he could have any girl he wanted. She’d seen other girls with dreamy looks on their faces watch Cy as he walked by. Watching him and how his Levi’s formed to his body, made her mouth dry.

  Cy was hot. Hell, he was inferno hot. What could he possibly see in her—ʻtorch girl’?

  There had to be something she was missing. Did he think hanging out with her was a joke?

  No, she already knew he wasn’t like that. He genuinely seemed to like her. For once, Mia blocked her insecurities and decided to just enjoy spending a few more hours with him.

  Chapter 9

  Cy pulled the truck to a stop in front of a worn, battered building at the edge of town. A bright red ʻOpen’ sign blinked behind dingy windows.

  “Dog grooming, acrylic nails, and tarot card reading? This is the place you want me to go?” Mia asked skeptically as she slid out of the front seat of the truck.

  “It’s not the place, it’s the person. You know Klahowya, it’s a small town. Orenda has a few different businesses going at once to make ends meet. Don’t write her off for that. Give her a chance.” Cy stopped and asked, “Can I touch your hand?”

  Mia nodded, and he pulled her toward the front door. A bell rang overhead as they stepped inside. She shouldn’t have agreed to this.

  “Mrs. Little Foot? Are you back there?” Cy called.

  Mia retreated. “You didn’t tell me where we were going,” she hissed at him between her teeth.

  “You didn’t ask.” He tightened his grasp on her wrist.

  “Cy!” a heavy woman cried. Her black hair was streaked with silver. She came out of the backroom and walked stiffly with a cane toward Cy. She threw her large, meaty arms around his neck. “Come here and give me a hug!”

  The woman squeezed Cy hard enough to make him exhale with a ʻhumph.ʼ

  “Let me take a look at you. My, my, my.” The old woman’s face crinkled and she smiled warmly. “So what’s your excuse for not coming to see me more often? The last time I saw you I had to call you and your fire boys. Remember? That poodle I was grooming freaked, ran out the backdoor, and fell into the storm drain. You came and fished the poor thing out. Needless to say, those people never brought their dog back. No great loss.” She laughed deep, and full of life. Her housecoat rippled underneath. “What have you been up to?”

  “Work, more work, and occasionally sleep, if I can fit it in.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Mrs. Little Foot is one of the rare people I share happy memories of the past with.”

  “I know it will be a good day when it starts off with a hug from a handsome boy like you. If I were only twenty, okay, maybe thirty years younger, I'd give you a run for your boyfriend.” She smiled. “Is this your girlfriend?” Her eyes twinkled devilishly looking at Mia.

  “No,” Mia shot back.

  “Mrs. Little Foot,” Cy said.

  “Cy. You’re not a kid anymore; you’re a young man. It’s okay to call me Orenda.”

  “Orenda. This is Mia.” He yanked her hand hard and pulled her out from behind him.

  Orenda reached for Mia's hand, but Mia jammed them both into the pockets of her jeans. The old woman stopped and studied her face for a long moment. “Mia? What’s your last name?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just a question. You look familiar.”

  “Koda. My last name's Koda.” Mia shot him an icy glare. “Why are we here?”

  “Sit.” Orenda motioned to a chair in front of a small table covered in tapestry. Propping her cane against the wall she sat heavily down in a chair. “Give me your hand, child. Come on honey, I won’t bite.”

  Mia closed her eyes. There was a weak snap, but surprisingly the woman didn’t let go. Mia slowly opened her eyes.

  The old woman’s face was leathery, but she had kind eyes that watched her intently. “What did you say your name was again?”

&n
bsp; “Koda.” What had she let Cy talk her into? She should run. Now.

  “Your whole name.” Dark brown eyes bore into hers.

  “Mia. Mia Koda.”

  The old woman now held her hand in a death grip. Mia could feel her powers building to a dangerous level. “You have to let go of my hand.” Fear clenched her. She didn’t know what would happen, but knew she didn’t want to hurt the old woman.

  Orenda finally released her grip and leaned back. “Pull up a chair, Cy.”

  Damn him anyway. Why had she ever let him talk her into this? Mia started to stand.

  “Sit down.”

  Mia faltered, but then did as the woman asked.

  “I don’t want to scare you, I want to help you.” Orenda continued in a soothing tone, “My ‘Indian’ name is Orenda Little Foot.”

  “So?” Mia answered. “Are we going to have a powwow together?”

  “You need to learn to listen to your elders.”

  “I don’t have elders. Can we go now?”

  “Mia...” Cy tried to break in.

  “Little Foot was the name of my mother, carried on to me. She named me Orenda. It’s Iroquois for ʻmagic power.’ I was given that name because I came from a family of women with powers. We can see things that have not happened yet. I can see people’s futures like my mother did, and my mother’s mother before her. Most people do not believe in these powers I hold. To them, I am just a fat, old woman who eats too much of my own fry bread. But the women of my family are priestesses.”

  Mia blew out a snort. “Right....”

  The old woman smiled and nodded. “I knew there was something familiar about you. I haven't seen her in over twenty years...but...” She stopped and leaned toward Mia. “Your name is not Mia Koda. It’s Miakoda. All one word. It means you have the ʻpower of the moon,’ a power you carry inside you.”

  Mia turned on Cy. “This is crazy. I’m sure you two are all having a good laugh at my expense.” Mia didn't know what she should think. Maybe she’d been wrong about Cy. “You called ahead and told her all about my little problem?” Mia shoved back her chair and stood abruptly.