FIGHTING FOR FIONA

“Seriously, Trent? We have a serial arsonist lighting up every damn dumpster between Fool’s Gold and Colorado Springs, and you’re worried about an overdue fire inspection? At a ghost town?”

Trent Falco took a deep breath, mentally reminding himself that slugging his twin brother, Troy, would be an epic mistake. Aside from the fact the guy was blood, he was also Trent’s boss. And after finally getting Team Falco up and running — convincing his other three brothers to join up — they were going to have each others’ backs or die trying, damn it. Though, easing the ever-present tension bunching his shoulders might just make that permanent reprimand on his record worth it.

Instead, he took another soothing breath, then another until he could unclench his fists. Look at Troy without wanting to shake some sense into him. “I realize this isn’t at the top of your priority list, but it’s been over a week since you had Sparrow shut the whole thing down. If you’re worried enough someone’s going to accidentally start another fire that you involved the Sheriff’s department, then this damn inspection needs to be dealt with.” 

Trent speared a hand through his hair when Troy merely waved at him as he rummaged through one of the lockers, grabbing bits of gear. “Troy!”

His brother stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. “Why has this got your damn panties in such a twist?”

“Besides the fact I hate having open cases sitting on my desk, mocking me? How about it’s not that far from Halloween. Might be nice if we could open up the damn town, again, for the annual hayrides. You know, the ones that donate all that money to charities. Ringing any bells?”

At least, Troy had the good grace to sigh and stop checking the gear for a moment so he could actually face Trent. “I know how important the hayrides are. And, I promise, we’ll get it all sorted out before they’ve missed their chance to help people in need. But right now, I need everyone focusing on the fires this nut job is setting.” He arched a brow. “Isn’t there a dumpster out there just waiting for you to crawl all over it?”

“I’ve cleared all the sites but one. Handed them off to Esme, which, of course, you know. Or do you have some crazy rule about work not being part of your pillow talk?”

“You’re such an ass, you know that?”

“And you’re stalling.” He stepped closer. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” He inhaled. “Are you questioning my competence? Trying to find a way to just give it to Esme, first?”

“What? Of course not. Jesus, paranoid much? It’s like you said. It’s not my priority but…” He held up his hand to stop Trent from interrupting. “Just, give me a few more days to reallocate some resources, and I’ll let you spend as long as you want scrounging for some cigarette butt half-buried in the dirt. Okay?”

“Two days, bro, or I’ll just go out there on my day off.”

“You’re not supposed to tell me that. Christ. I swear you’d call the cops to let them know you were gonna rob a bank. Just because you could.” He gave Trent a shove. “Now, feel free to go dumpster diving. And take the Wildland engine and Heath with you. Bastard’s been riding my ass about testing out the new sprayer. Maybe he’ll stop if I let him go play for a bit — water some bushes. Just, don’t let him go too crazy. The last thing I need is Sparrow marching in here questioning me why one of our engines is four-wheeling it up to the mine, dousing all the rocks.” He pointed at Trent. “And no, Heath can’t do that.”

“I meant what I said.”

“Trust me. I know. And everyone says I’ve got rules and regulations shoved up my ass.”

“You do because if our positions were reversed, you would’ve cracked, already. Been spitting fire after day two.” He gave his brother a smug grin. “And you would have carried through with my thoughts of slugging you.” He headed for the door. “Tell Esme I’ll have everything she needs if this is our guy. Though, if it’s not, that could be worse.”

Troy mumbled something as Trent walked into the hallway, heading for the truck bays. Despite Troy’s assurances, Trent couldn’t quite ignore the tingling feeling on the back of his neck. The one that had saved his life more times than he could count while with the Air Force. Backdrafts. Explosives. Chemicals just waiting to ignite. He’d been lucky enough to sense more than his share before they’d had a chance to outright kill him. And he wasn’t going to ignore his instincts, now. 

He paused, glancing back at the locker room. Maybe he should press his brother a bit harder. Get him to level with him because if Troy really did think Trent was losing it…

“Hey.”

Heath’s hand on Trent’s shoulder had him spinning. Tripping into the wall before scrambling upright. Glaring at his older brother.

Heath laughed, nodding at him as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nice moves, Backstreet. You been practicing that one for Ladies’ Night at the Watering Hole?”

“Jackass.” Trent smoothed his hands down his shirt, making a show of straightening everything out. “You’re lucky I didn’t turn around swinging.”

Heath simply shrugged. “I’ve seen you swing. I wasn’t worried.”

“Come a bit closer and say that, again.”

“Someone’s grumpy. Troy still stonewalling you about that inspection? Or are you pissed about something new?”

“He’s still stalling but… He knows he’s on limited time. He wants that last dumpster fire at the abandoned Church towards Ute Pass finished up. Guess it’s safe for us to scour the site, now.”

“Us?”

“You get to tag along.” He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“Seriously?” Heath glared at the locker room door. “He’s only doing this because he knows I want to test the new nozzles on my baby, and he doesn’t want another confrontation where he blows me off.”

“The Wildland engine isn’t your baby, but before you go in and start a war you can’t win, seeing as he’s our chief, Troy did say we could take the engine and spray some bushes once we’re done.” 

“Finally. I was about to smack the guy up the side of the head.”

Trent held up a finger. “Only if you promise not to go crazy.”

“Please, I’m the grounded one.”

“You were the grounded one growing up… Damn near every weekend if I remember correctly.” He dodged Heath’s slap. “We’re stopping for coffee. And you’re buying.”

Heath grumbled something about being the second oldest, needing respect, while walking down to the third bay. He did a quick once-over, then jumped in the driver’s side, grinning like a little kid as he started the engine, then rolled forward, turning onto Main Street.

Trent launched the map app on his phone, bringing up the location, then scanning through some of the photos taken during the call. Their shift counterparts had tackled this last fire, though it looked identical to the others his crew had fought, and he had no doubts he’d find the same accelerant and trigger caps as the last three fires.

Which made Troy’s reluctance to let Trent investigate the mysterious fire at the Stevensville Ghost Town even stranger. If there was a chance it was connected to the other fires, he needed to gather proof. Hell, by the time he got out there, he’d be lucky if there were any char marks left.

“Stop fuming and just make peace with the fact Troy has some master plan.” Heath glanced over at him. “You were doing that mumbling thing where you grind your teeth as you clench your fists. Which obviously goes back to Troy blocking you from doing your job.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. Troy’s the last person to push protocol aside.”

“He’s probably just worried our arson is going to up the ante — start claiming victims. You know he takes any fire-related deaths personally, whether he could have prevented them or not. I swear he carries the weight of the whole department on his shoulders.” Heath arched a brow. “Unless your Wonder Twin powers are kicking in. Telling you there’s more to this than resource issues.”

“Don’t be a jackass. We don’t have any twin powers.”

Heath snorted. “Right. You keep on telling yourself that. Maybe, you’ll eventually believe it.”

“I do believe it. And feel free to stop with all that woo-woo crap. People are talking, bro, and they’re not being kind.”

“First of all, people are not talking, unless it’s how depressing your love life is. Second, I wouldn’t care if they were. And third, I’m not the only one who believes in all that ‘woo-woo crap’ as you put it.”

“You’re right. I’m pretty sure Seth’s into that shit, too.”

“I’m talking about you, dumbass. Unless you’re telling me that all those times you and Troy just knew the other was in danger was, what? Coincidence?” He scoffed at Trent’s frown. “Please, I’ve seen the texts Troy sent. Where he’s wondering if you’re okay? Asking if bad shit is going down — and it was.” He shook his head. “Face it. You two are linked. In fact, all of us are to some degree. And I know we’ve all had moments during our service where we felt something was off. Usually saving our damn lives, so… But, by all means, lie to yourself.”

Trent flipped him off, pushing down the unease that prickled his skin. Hating how Heath always saw through the bullshit to the truth hiding underneath. “Regardless, it feels… Off. But, I’ll give the guy his two days before I take matters into my own hands.” Though, if Troy thought Trent would keep on letting it slide, the guy was in for one hell of a fight.

“I’m sure… Hey. Am I seeing things or is that smoke?”

And just like that, any thoughts of besting Troy, making him see the light, vanished. Gone in the space of a heartbeat as Trent scanned the horizon, settling on where Ridgeline Road disappeared on the horizon. “Hard to tell with the sun sitting low. Some haze in the sky. It’s probably nothing, but with everything so dry…”

“Can’t chance it. We’ll do a drive-by, and if it’s nothing, we’ll continue on to our other site.” Heath glanced at Trent. “You want to call it in? Looks like we might be going right past the old ghost town.”

“I’ll choose my words carefully.”

Heath grinned as Trent notified dispatch. And, if he’d downplayed it just a bit to avoid Troy sending the entire crew their way, it wasn’t actually lying. Trent would never knowingly endanger anyone just to appease his curiosity. But if it meant they might be able to sneak a peek at the old town once they’d ensured this was nothing more than some hunter making a campfire, he wouldn’t complain.

Seeing thick black smoke billowing into the sky on a scrubby plateau up and behind the old saloon several minutes later had Trent reaching for the mike, again. Updating the situation — that it wasn’t serious, yet, and he and Heath could handle it, but to standby for an update — send out the big guns if they didn’t call back within fifteen minutes. All while Heath swerved onto an old two-track, bouncing them along as he headed for the brush fire quickly spreading across the ground. 

Heath skidded to a halt still a good distance back from the flames, yelling at Trent to man the exterior hose at the rear of the engine. Trent jumped out, sprinting to the back before opening the panel and grabbing the nozzle. A couple of fist pounds on the truck and his brother was moving, dragging the length of hose forward as he engaged the bumper spray, hitting the leading edge of the fire line. Water shot out the front and sides, dousing the dry grass and dirt as Heath paralleled the flames, hitting the bulk of the fire with Trent catching the areas Heath couldn’t reach.

They made a few passes, Heath manipulating the front hose like a fucking Jedi. As if he knew exactly where the undying hot spots were. Of course, this was Heath’s wheelhouse. The guy lived for tackling wildfires. Had it in his blood, if Trent was honest. And no one attacked a bush land fire line like his big brother. 

The fifth pass had the fire spurting then waning, thicker smoke filling the air. One final sweep, and all but a few errant lines were out. Mostly white smoke wafting into the sky.

Trent dropped the hose, grabbing the shovel Heath tossed him as he rounded the vehicle, heading for the last few trails of fire still creeping across the ground. They worked fast, piling dirt onto the flames until they were out, nothing but ash and soggy vegetation left behind. Heath had them dig for another few minutes, checking for any leaders advancing beneath the ground before he seemed satisfied the area was clear. Wouldn’t rebound and pop up fifty yards in another direction.

They returned the gear, winding up the hose, then called dispatch back, only to get static. Trent grabbed his cell, but didn’t have any bars, typical for this area with its unreliable service. Which meant the crew would be rallying when he missed his call-in time. Not that they could do anything other than wait for the whine of the siren they suspected wasn’t far off — when something glinted in the distance.

Heath squinted, pointing at two SUVs barely visible behind a bunch of brambles down the hill behind the old saloon. “I thought that place was off-limits?”

“I was told Sparrow had it locked down, but…” Trent cursed, closing the panel as he ran a hand through his hair. “Probably some teenagers out looking for a place to party. We should check all the buildings, just to be safe. Send the kids home. Get some help if it’s people who don’t have anywhere else to stay.”

“Guess you’ll get a chance to do that investigation, after all. And it’s not even your birthday.”

Trent gave Heath a shove, jogging down a winding trail that led to the main section of the ghost town — noting how deserted it looked without the usual bustle of tourists ambling around, or the annual hayrides jingling past. He headed for the saloon, bounding up the walkway as he neared the old tavern door. He glanced back at Heath, motioning to the entrance before twisting the handle and stepping inside, Heath following behind him.

They gave the main room a quick once-over, then headed for the back. If there were some teenagers hanging out, they wouldn’t be in the front sections where some cop or security guard could virtually trip over them. Which meant scouring each room. Taking their chances with the old stairs down to the cold cellar.

A startled gasp as they entered the last room had Trent reeling to a stop — grunting when Heath banged into him from behind. Seeing three men and a woman huddled around a briefcase full of money and a box of weapons on the ground had that tingling sensation from earlier screaming at Trent. Showcasing all the ways the next thirty seconds could play out if he didn’t move. Get somewhere safe.

A quick turn, and he had Heath by the jacket — was dragging him backward. Doing his best to shield his brother from any possible shot if the group managed to react before Trent had gotten them clear. 

A few more seconds, and he had the cellar door open enough to shove Heath onto the small landing, thankful he hadn’t accidentally pushed the man down the first flight. Having a couple of bullets punch holes in the wood motivated Trent to dive through the opening. Pray he could get his feet beneath him before he rolled off the edge then down the stairs. Most likely breaking his neck in the process.

The wooden beams cracked as his shoulder hit the planks, the eerie sound echoing off the stone walls. He scooted onto the first step when the entire staircase shimmied, tipping left then pausing. Hanging off-kilter as if deciding whether to continue over or just stay on that weird angle. The railing the only thing preventing the two of them from sliding off the side.

Heath muttered something that sounded like, “Hold on,” when the joists gave way. Just dropped out from beneath Trent as if they’d never been there. There was a harried moment of free-fall — of everything slowing as someone shouted in the distance — Heath trying to grab him mid-air. Then they were rushing toward the rocky floor, nothing but darkness engulfing the space as they hit the bottom, pieces of wood and stone raining down over them. Trent had one last moment of coherent thought — how he needed to get them clear before the rest of the men breached the door — before the pain in his head pulled him under, fading everything into black.