Deacon's Defender Page 6

  I’d been going through the cupboards and writing this week’s shopping list while my mind turned over what to do about Deacon. “I’m confused.”

  “Obviously.” Dallas snickered. “About what? As if I don’t already know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped back.

  “Give me a break, Oz. I know you better than anyone. You’re trying to figure out what to do about Deacon. I know the two of you have been texting.” There was no snark in Dallas’s voice.

  “So, what if we have?” Why was I instantly on the defensive?

  Dallas held his hands out in a supplicating gesture. “Calm down. I’m not here to give you shit. I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me? With what?” I had to admit I was curious to hear what Dallas was thinking.

  “I know that asshole doctor put your heart through the wringer,” Dallas stated simply.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Dallas stuck up a hand to keep me from interrupting. I shut my mouth and opened my ears, as my mother would put it.

  “I think you should ask Deacon out on a date. Go to a movie. Have dinner. Take him for a walk around Bearskin Neck in Rockport. Enjoy the shops and grab a lobster roll.” Dallas paused, giving me a moment to respond.

  For once, I stayed quiet, instead of telling him what a stupid idea it was.

  “I’m not saying that you declare your undying love for the guy. Just go out and have fun. Don’t think about Stark or the arsonist. Be Ozzy again. I’ve missed him, you know.”

  “What do you mean you’ve missed me?” I was right here. What the hell was Dallas talking about?

  “You can bullshit the rest of the world, but not me. Something is missing in you. It’s been gone since the breakup with Doctor Feelgood. I don’t know if it’s because you’ve got your heart on lockdown or because you think you’ll never find someone who’ll love you and be faithful. Maybe Deacon can help you find that missing piece. Maybe he can’t. You’ll never know unless you take a chance.”

  Dallas made sense. There was something missing in me. I’d noticed it too. I didn’t know if Deacon was the answer, but I was willing to try one platonic date. “Thanks, Dallas. I’ll-” My next thought was interrupted by the alarm bell ringing. “To be continued.” I ran for the fire pole, sliding down to the first floor. While I got into my gear, I prayed this was an accidental fire. Some idiot putting his grill too close to the house or a backyard bonfire that got out of control.

  “What have you got?” I asked the 911 dispatcher when I was settled into the passenger seat of the engine truck.

  “House fire at 515 Clam Digger Way. Homeowner states both exit points are in flames. He’s trying to lower the family out the second-floor window using bed sheets.”

  Jesus Christ. Ozzy didn’t have to tell Chasten to get a move on. He’d already flipped on the lights and sirens and was pulling out of the bay.

  I prayed the entire way to the scene. We’d never been a religious family. Church wasn’t David and Mandy’s thing, but they had taught us the value of prayer and being selfless. In the twenty years I’d spent with the McCoys, I’d only prayed for myself a handful of times and they’d all been fire related.

  The sky ahead of us glowed a deep orange. I knew if I rolled down my window, I’d smell the smoke. “You heard dispatch. The family is being lowered out of the house with sheets. Be ready to assist. Jenks, you’re in charge of the air cushion. Let’s save this family.”

  When Chasten pulled up at the scene, I could see a bedsheet rope dangling from the furthest second floor window to the right. Someone appeared to be stuck midway down, while another figure called up to them from the ground.

  I was out the door and running toward the family as fast as my gear would allow. A mother and a small child huddled off to the side, while a man shouted from the bedroom window. Black smoke billowed around him.

  If the mother was out of the house with one child and a male adult was shouting from the window, who the hell was at the bottom of the rope? The figure was short and wearing jeans and a black tee-shirt. It didn’t take me long to recognize the voice shouting encouragement to the child stuck halfway between danger and safety. It was Deacon Fairbanks.

  How the hell had he gotten to another fire ahead of me? This property was nowhere close to his house on Old Salem Road, so he wouldn’t have the excuse of being in the neighborhood where the fire started. We’d talk about all of this later. What was important now was saving this family from the fire.

  “Deacon, what’s going on?” I shouted over the roar of the fire.

  “Mikey is stuck halfway down. He doesn’t think I’m strong enough to catch him if he falls.” Deacon never took his eye off the boy who couldn’t have been more than six years old. “Mikey! This is my friend, Ozzy. He’s a fireman.”

  The scared child looked down at me. I saw hope blossom in his eyes. “It’s okay, Mikey. If you let go of the rope. I’ll catch you. I promise.” He was only about twenty feet from the ground, but a fall from that distance could break bones or worse in such a small child.

  “I’m scared!” the little boy wailed.

  “You can do it, son,” Mikey’s father shouted from the bedroom window. He coughed between each word. There wasn’t a lot of time left to save him.

  “Mikey, please let the nice fireman help you!” the boy’s mother hollered up at him. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” The woman’s frightened eyes met mine. I nodded briefly, hoping she understood I would do everything possible to help her son.

  “Okay. I’m letting go.” Without hesitation, the boy dropped from the rope.

  My heart stopped beating for those three endless seconds as the tiny body plummeted toward me. I positioned myself under him and caught him in my arms.

  “You did it, Mr. Fireman. You saved me!” Mikey wrapped his arms around me. I grabbed Deacon’s arm and pulled him back out of the way so Jenks could deploy the cushion.

  With a woosh, it began to inflate. I could see how nervous the father looked as he stared down at his family. I knew the last thing he wanted was to die in front of them. “What’s your daddy’s name?” I asked Mikey.

  “Jack Peterson!” the little boy answered, sounding triumphant.

  “You’re so brave, Mikey.” I set him down on the ground. “Go help your mommy so I can help your dad, okay?”

  Nodding, the little boy ran to his crying mother. She was dressed in dark yoga pants and a tank top. Her brunette hair was tangled at the top of her head. I could see the little girl she was holding had the same dark hair, while Mikey and Jack were both blond.

  “Jack!” I shouted up to the father. “I need you to sit on the edge of the window and then push yourself out. We’ve got the cushion deployed beneath you. I promise you’ll be safe, but you have to go now!”

  At this point, the house was fully engulfed in flames. I could see it was punching through the roof in places. I could hear it crackling. There wasn’t a lot of time left before it started collapsing in on itself. I watched as Jack stuck his legs out the window. He was coughing harder now. I could see Chasten and Carl using the battering ram to break down the front door. It wasn’t going well. Jumping was Jack’s only choice. “Now, Jack!”

  With his butt on the windowsill, Jack pushed himself forward. He seemed to hang, suspended in mid-air for a split-second before plunging down into the cushion. I ran over to help him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dallas and Maxine rush forward. Max went toward the wife and kids, while Dallas headed toward Jack. He was much stronger and would be able to help me haul Jack out of the deflating air bag if he couldn’t make it out on his own.

  “Does anything hurt?” Dallas asked, when he reached Jack.

  “I’m fine. Terrified, but fine.” Jack started coughing and couldn’t seem to stop.

  Dallas got Jack on his feet and rushed him to the ambulance. Smoke inhalation was no joke. The majority of people who die in house fires succumb to the poisonous smoke, rather than the
flames. It’s an awful way to die.

  I took a few steps back from the house, which was going to be a total loss. I prayed the family had pictures backed up to a cloud. There wasn’t going to be anything left of this house when we were finished with it.

  “Cap, you’re not going to believe it, but the front door was glued shut.” Chasten was panting, bent double, with his hands on his knees.

  “What do you mean it was glued shut?” Deacon asked from behind me. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten he was here.

  “The door casing was lined with clear glue. It looks like some kind of Gorilla Glue. I got a sample before it was too late.” Chasten handed the plastic disk to me.

  “What about the side door? Was it glued shut too?”

  Chasten nodded. “I wasn’t able to get a sample of that.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure the Fire Marshal will be able to find residue.” A very disturbing pattern was emerging. This bastard had just upped their game. Nailing and now gluing doors shut wasn’t just evil, it was downright diabolical.

  Nodding, Chasten ran back toward Jenks who was spraying the charred remains of the house. I turned my attention back to Deacon. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how he’d gotten here ahead of us again. I was torn between needing an answer and not wanting to set our friendship back. “Dispatch told us the family was using a sheet-rope to get out of the house.”

  Deacon’s eyes dropped to the ground. “I did everything I could to help them. Michelle was terrified to use the makeshift rope. I did what I could to talk her down. Her daughter was clinging to her neck and screaming.”

  I believed every word Deacon was saying. When he finally made eye contact with me, I could see the emotion in them. “How did you get here before us?” I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know.

  Swiping at the tears tracking down his face, Deacon looked up at me. “I was driving home from McDonalds. I know I shouldn’t eat stuff like that, but I was tired and hungry. The call came over the police band radio and I sped over here as fast as I could.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get pulled over by the police.” How lucky could one man get? This was the second fire in a row he’d gotten to ahead of the fire department. I understood that his house was close to the last fire, but it was too much of a coincidence that Deacon just happened to be at the McDonalds ten blocks from here when the fire call went out.

  “Yeah, right?” Deacon giggled nervously.

  “Let me walk you back to your car. We’re about done here.” My mind spun as I looked down at Deacon, who had a soot mark on his left cheek, probably from helping the mother and daughter down the makeshift rope.

  Deacon opened his mouth, presumably to complain, but I hurried him toward the street. His silver Nissan was parked halfway down the block. As we reached the driver’s side door, I noticed a full McDonald’s bag sitting on the passenger seat. Relief flooded my body. “How about an exclusive from the captain?”

  His eyes widening, Deacon yanked his notebook from the back pocket of his jeans. “Sure.”

  “When we arrived on-scene, the single-family residence was nearly engulfed by the flames. We were able to rescue the family, who were using bedsheets as ropes to escape the flames. We were unable to save the home, but the family is safe.” Butterflies kicked up in my stomach over the dreamy look in Deacon’s eyes.

  “Perfect, Ozzy. Thanks.”

  I opened the door to the car, looking around there were no bystanders or members of my team close by. Leaning closer to Deacon, I kissed him. He moaned into my mouth and dug his hands into my jacket. I knew if this went on much longer, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Reluctantly, I backed away.

  “Damn,” Deacon sighed.

  Damn, indeed. My dick agreed. It twitched against my abdomen, as if it were trying to escape from the confines of my pants.

  Giving my head a shake to get back in the game, I ushered Deacon into the driver’s seat. I was just about to shut the door when something on the floor of the back, passenger side of the car caught my eye. It was a bottle of Gorilla Glue.

  Stunned, I stepped back from the car and even managed to wave as Deacon drove off. I knew I had the tendency to jump to conclusions, but both doors had been glued shut from the outside. Deacon was at the fire scene before we were, again, and there was glue in his car.

  Jesus Christ, Deacon Fairbanks was the arsonist.

  10

  Deacon

  When I woke up the next morning, I was walking on a cloud. Ozzy had kissed me again, and this time it hadn’t been because he was angry with me. He’d kissed me because he wanted me. Me!

  Slipping out of bed, I checked my phone, hoping there would be a message from Ozzy. There wasn’t a message from him, but there was one from Finley asking if I was free for lunch today. I replied I was, and we made plans to grab salads at our favorite deli near the harbor.

  I grabbed navy cargo pants from the closet and a matching Hawaiian shirt. I was on top of the world. Nothing could bring me down today, not even the fact that Finley hated it when I wore busy shirts, as he called them.

  Turning the knob for the shower, I waited for the water temp to be just right before stepping in. My glassed-in shower was the height of luxury as far as I was concerned. The small house, a two-bedroom ranch, had been a graduation present from my parents. They owned several rental properties throughout Gloucester and Manchester-by-the-Sea. This house had been available when I landed my job at The Gloucester Times.

  I rested my hands on the shower wall so the hot water would hit the back of my neck before flowing down my back. My muscles started to loosen the longer I stood under the spray. This was the life.

  When I was fully relaxed, my thoughts turned to Ozzy. I’d always loved tall men and he was several inches over six feet. When he stood next to me, I felt petite. His body was bulky when he was dressed in his turnout gear, but when I’d visited him at the station house, he was dressed in his uniform which highlighted his broad chest and thick thighs. He was powerfully built, and I was betting he knew how to use every ounce of that power when it counted.

  My slumbering cock perked up at the thought of his taut ass and heavily muscled thighs working together to drill me into the mattress. I’d let him take me however he wanted, from the front, doggie, reverse cowboy. Anything Ozzy wanted, he’d get.

  I wrapped my right hand around my fully aroused cock and gave it a few long, slow tugs. In my mind’s eye, I imagined Ozzy on his knees in front of me, brushing those full lips against my dick. I’d get off so hard with just the friction of his closed lips.

  Ozzy wouldn’t let things end like that. I had a feeling he was a champion cocksucker. A man that handsome must have gotten a lot of practice. He’d know just how to touch me, when to suck and when to lick.

  Moaning out loud, I could see Ozzy slip those sinful lips over the head of my cock. He’d hold me against his tongue for a minute or two, getting used to the feel of me. I’d always been an impatient lover, wanting to come at the very moment some guy inhaled me. Most of them obliged me. Ozzy wouldn’t. He’d make me work for what I wanted.

  I pumped my hips in quick succession, ramping up my desire to a higher level. Dream-Ozzy winked up at me before taking the rest of my cock into his mouth. He took me to the root without so much as a gag. More than anything I wanted to come. I wanted to pump my hot load down his throat and watch while he swallowed every drop of me.

  Ozzy wouldn’t let that happen. He pulled back until my cock dropped from his lips. I dropped my cock, letting it bounce back against my lower abdomen. It killed me to back off like that. I’d been so close. Only a few rough strokes and I would have been there. I would have found my bliss in Dream-Ozzy’s hot, velvety mouth.

  “It will be better this way. Trust me,” my dream lover whispered.

  I slowly wrapped my left hand around my dick. Giving it a bit of strange would make my fantasy of Ozzy all the more real in my mind. His dark eyes would shimmer up at me as he took m
e back into this mouth. I knew from that look there would be no stopping him now.

  Taking a deep breath, my hand began to fist my dick. Slowly at first, feeling each vein, each ridge, before speeding up a bit more. Every instinct in my body screamed to go faster, harder, but I ignored them all. I was going to come nice and slow, just the way Ozzy would do it if he were here.

  While his lips and talented tongue brought me closer and closer to the end, I’d caress the side of his stubbled face before tangling my hands in his silky dark hair. I’d never touched it before, but it looked silky soft. The next time he kissed me, I’d make sure to run my fingers through it just to make sure.

  My cock jumped in my hand at the thought of touching Ozzy so intimately. The water turned cooler, but the friction on my dick was keeping me plenty warm. As I tightened my grip on Ozzy’s head, he’d dig his hands into my ass cheeks to hold me closer. Oh, I wasn’t going anywhere, not until his belly was full of my seed.

  Would Ozzy beg with his eyes or would he lash his tongue harder against my shaft? Ozzy didn’t seem like the kind of man who begged for anything. He’d take what he wanted, when he wanted it, like when he kissed me on my doorstep. I hadn’t given him any indication I wanted to be kissed. He took me, then and there. I’d been putty in his hands, just like I’d been last night.

  I would have given him anything he wanted in that moment, my hand, my mouth, my ass. All he had to do was ask. No, command. He’d command me to take out his dick and suck it.

  “Oh, fuck!” I gasped, feeling my dick buck in my hand and start to shoot. I hadn’t intended to go off so quickly, but the thought of Ozzy commanding I suck his cock, pushed me over the edge.

  Gobs of sticky come shot from my slit to land on my stomach. It tangled in the light coating of fur before the cool water from the shower sluiced it away. It didn’t matter, my dick was like Vesuvius, my hand coated in my own release.

  Would Ozzy come in my mouth, or would he pull out at the last second and spew all over my face before feeding his come to me? The mere question made my dick twitch harder. I’d stopped coming, but my orgasm ricocheted through my entire body. Ozzy would come all over my face, marking me as his own. Branding me. Claiming me.