Fighting the Fire: A Warrior Fight Club Novel Read online

  Before Daniela, he’d never known a woman that both drove him up a wall and to his fuckin’ knees. Now, he routinely struggled between wanting to take that smart mouth down a notch or two or kiss the sarcasm out of her. For starters.

  None of which was helped by remembering just how damn good they’d been together, even though that one time had been in his truck. He’d playfully grabbed her when she’d punched him and their bodies had collided, and then it’d been like they’d both let themselves off of some kind of leash. Need had roared through him, and he’d kissed her. And he’d never been kissed back more enthusiastically in his entire goddamn life. Getting inside his truck was all they’d been able to do before hands and mouths had wandered all kinds of interesting places. Places, sometimes in his dreams, he could still taste.

  But all of that was their little secret. None of their friends had the slightest idea they’d hooked up, which was just how it should be. Especially since nothing would ever come of it anyway.

  Blinking out of the thought, Sean followed as they moved up to the main floor as a group, then exited through the lobby with its case of trophies and medals and the industrial-looking registration desk. The warmth of the summer night air, heavy with mugginess from the frequent rain lately, surrounded them as they spilled out in front of Full Contact in the heart of DC’s U Street neighborhood.

  “So, the Moroccan place over in Adams Morgan? Is that what we decided?” Noah asked, his cell to his ear. Words of agreement rose up from the group as everyone headed in the direction of their cars.

  “I’ll see you all later,” Sean called out, giving a wave.

  “Wait, you’re not coming?” Dani stepped back up on the sidewalk.

  Helmet under his arm, he was already retreating to where his bike was parked around the corner. “Why? You gonna miss me?” Given how he felt, he didn’t deliver the line with his usual bravado and it fell flat.

  “You wish,” she said, but the comeback also fell flat. As if she were reading lines rather than really trying to get in a dig.

  He shook his head. “Nope. You get a Sean-free night, so never say I didn’t do something nice for ya, Dani.” He threw her a wink. Humor was always a good way to cover up all kinds of bullshit, wasn’t it?

  “Oh. Okay,” she said.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of her hesitation, or of the way she turned away and then back again, like she had something else to say, but he wasn’t particularly itching for another fight at the moment, so he ducked his head and kept going.

  With all the rain lately, he hadn’t been able to ride his bike as much as he preferred—instead, he’d been driving his truck most of the time, which was still full of memories of Dani. Her body. Her skin. Her moans. So when he’d left for WFC and the weather had been clear, he’d jumped on the chance to get a few hours on the back of his Harley. Riding and working on upgrades of his Sportster Iron 883 were two of his favorite hobbies—and two more things that helped get him out of his head.

  Always a good thing.

  He mounted up, tugged on a pair of gloves, and secured his helmet, then turned the key and smiled as the engine came to life beneath him. He fuckin’ loved this bike, not to mention the feeling of freedom he got with nothing between him and the wind.

  Sean eased the bike out of his space and onto the one-way side street, twisting the throttle as he approached the green light and prepared to swing a left-hand turn.

  It all slowed down from there, once he was mid-intersection and it was too late to change the trajectory of his bike or his decision. He caught the too-fast movement at his left from the corner of his eye. Looked to see the truck not stopping for the red light. Knew there was no fuckin’ way he wasn’t going to get hit.

  The pattern on the rectangular grill came right for him.

  Sean corrected as best he could to turn himself out of the way.

  But he didn’t think it was going to be enough.

  And then it wasn’t.

  * * *

  “Sean!” Dani yelled from where she’d been standing on the corner, debating talking to him now since he wasn’t going to dinner. But then the truck and the screeching brakes and the crunching collision of metal against metal against wet, hard pavement…

  Heart in her throat, she took off at a sprint. Off the curb. Around where the truck had belatedly skidded to a stop. “Oh, God.” Sean’s bike lay in a heap, it’s whole back end badly mangled. And Sean lay a good ten feet away from it, face down.

  Not moving.

  “Jesus, Sean, are you okay?” She dropped to her knees beside him. When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “Can you hear me, Sean?”

  Nothing.

  Stomach rolling, she grasped his wrist. His pulse was fast and strong, and the relief of feeling that forceful beat might’ve taken her to her knees if she weren’t already there. She fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed 9-1-1.

  Heavy footsteps ran up behind her, then Mo was right there. “Fuck, how is he?”

  She held up a hand as the dispatcher picked up. “My name’s Daniela England and I’m an ER nurse at University Hospital. I need an ambulance at 13th and W streets, Northwest. A box truck ran a red light and struck a man on a motorcycle. Thirty-two and otherwise healthy. He’s unconscious but has a strong pulse.”

  “Okay, Daniela. We have another report about this incident and already have an ambulance en route,” the dispatcher said. “Are there any visible injuries?”

  Dani’s gaze ran over Sean’s strong body—his too-still body. One of his hands was banged up through the shredded remains of a glove, but that was all she could see. “A few abrasions are visible, but nothing else. He was wearing a helmet, but he’s lying on his stomach and I don’t want to turn him without a spinal evaluation.” Just saying those words made Dani want to puke. What if—

  No. No. This wasn’t her friend, Sean. Or whatever they were. This was a patient. Get your head in the game, Dani.

  When she heard the sirens in the distance, she hung up with the dispatcher, which was the first time she noticed the crowds of people that had gathered on the sidewalk.

  “They’re almost here,” Mo said. “Fucking hell.”

  “It was like watching a disaster unfold knowing what the outcome would be but unable to prevent it,” Dani said.

  Mo’s face was pinched with worry. “I only heard it, but it didn’t sound good. I was only still here because I got a call. I think everyone else left for the restaurant.”

  Dani nodded. “Mind going to see if the truck driver is injured?”

  Mo squeezed her shoulder as he got to his feet.

  She bent closer to Sean’s head. “Sean? Can you hear me? I need you to wake up.” She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. “Come on, Riddick, you stubborn asshole, wake the fuck up and do something annoying.”

  A low groan from deep in his throat.

  The surprised sound she made was part laugh and part cry. “That’s it. Wake up now,” she said.

  Mo returned to her side. “Driver said he’s not hurt.”

  Dani nodded up at him. “Sean’s coming to.”

  Mo’s eyes went wide and he dropped to his knees. “Come on, son. We need you awake,” he said, voice gritty with concern.

  On a grunt, Sean stretched out one of his legs and dragged a hand up as if he intended to push off the ground.

  “Good, that’s good, Sean. But don’t try to move too much,” she said, relief a tidal wave rolling through her. He wasn’t paralyzed.

  His fingers fumbled at his helmet. “Off,” he croaked.

  Just then, EMS arrived, a team she knew from seeing them at the ER—Mike Garcia and Erin Bronson. Dani let them know what she could—and who they were working on since there was a decent chance they’d know him, then backed out of the way enough to let them do their jobs.

  “Whoa, whoa, Riddick,” Garcia said as Sean tugged at his helmet. “Easy. Let us evaluate you first.”

  “They need to check out you
r neck and spine, Sean,” Dani said, still kneeling in his line of sight.

  “They’re fuckin’ fine,” he said, almost making Dani laugh. Such a stubborn asshole.

  She knelt closer. “Well, they’re gonna fucking check. So fucking cooperate. Okay?”

  He made a noise like a laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough. In a burst of effort, he shoved the helmet off. “Can’t…breathe.”

  “Damnit, Riddick.” But that was all Dani could say when she saw the giant crack that jagged all across the helmet’s visor. A piece of the clear plastic had caved inward, and Sean had a corresponding bloody slice all along the side of his nose and running under his eyebrow. Jesus.

  “We’re going to turn you over using a spinal board,” Garcia said.

  Sean made a sound deep in his throat. “Fuck that—”

  Bronson placed the board at Sean’s back, her blond ponytail falling over her shoulder as she worked, and he elbowed it away and turned himself over, eliciting concern and protests from their whole group.

  “Don’t need it. I’m tellin’ ya my spine’s fine,” Sean said. “All ten fingers and toes are doing their thing. It’s just, you know, everything else that fuckin’ hurts.”

  Mo bent over so that he was staring down directly above their friend’s bloodied face. “You listen to me, son, and you listen good. You’re going to cooperate with these fine people or the second you’re upright again I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

  Sean groaned. “Fine.”

  The word pulled Dani back into their earlier exchange, which she felt even worse about now. Shit. “Why do first responders make such terrible patients?” she snarked, smirking at Sean to try to distract him from everything else.

  Garcia slanted her a glance and winked. The blue-eyes-and-dark-hair combo was just one of the reasons he was popular at the ER. Luckily, he was also damn good at his job, which Dani was seeing firsthand. “Doctors and nurses aren’t much better,” he said.

  Sean laughed and nearly coughed up a lung again. “Always did like you, Garcia.”

  “Shut up, asshole.” Garcia grinned as he threaded an oxygen line under Sean’s nose and around his ears.

  The good-natured banter rushed more relief through Dani. Sean was moving. He was talking. He was being his usual sarcastic self. She’d never been happier about that.

  “My vision’s all fucked up,” Sean said waving at his bloody eye.

  While Bronson patched up Sean’s hands, Garcia flashed a light in Sean’s eyes and frowned. “Unilateral dilated pupil, left side.”

  Dani bit back a curse. Given his injury, she wasn’t surprised, but that wasn’t great.

  “Fuck, that doesn’t sound good,” Sean said, echoing her thoughts. “What does that mean?”

  “What can you see?” Garcia asked.

  “It’s all blurry on that side. What’s it mean?”

  Garcia secured gauze over the eye. “It’s common when there’s trauma to the eye. They’ll be able to give you more info at the hospital.”

  “Fuck, Mike, I gotta be able to see the fires to fight ‘em.”

  A rock sank into Dani’s gut as Mike replied the only way he could: “We’re gonna take care of you, buddy.”

  The EMTs stepped away to get the stretcher, and Dani leaned in. “All I want you thinking about is staying calm and getting better. We’ll figure the rest out.”

  “I gotta be able to see, D.”

  She swallowed around a knot of emotion. “It’s not time to worry, Sean. Not yet. I promise.”

  “You’ll tell me. Right? You’ll tell me when it is?” He nailed her with a one-eyed stare that was just south of panicked.

  “I’ll fucking tell you,” she said, playing it hard and cool so he would believe she wasn’t scared. That everything was cool, normal, totally fine.

  That word again.

  Garcia and Bronson returned, and Dani almost groaned when she saw what Mike had in his hands.

  “We don’t need to transport you on the spinal board, but you do need the collar—”

  Sean’s jaw went tight. “No, I don’t—”

  Mo leaned over him again. “Wear the damn collar.” Sean gave in and Garcia got busy putting it on.

  Bronson smirked up at Mo. “You wanna come on all our calls?” The big guy chuffed out something that, under other circumstances, might’ve turned into a full-on laugh. Then his cell rang and he stepped away.

  Dani rose and suddenly there were cops there wanting to talk to her. Keeping one eye on Sean as they prepared to load him up, she gave her information and a quick run-down of what she saw.

  “Look, I’m riding with him to the hospital. Is there any chance you can follow up there? Or can I call you tomorrow?” Dani asked the policewoman.

  “The driver admitted that he didn’t see the light, so we might not need more from you, but I have your information just in case.” The woman handed Dani a business card.

  “Thank you,” she said, slipping it into her jeans pocket. Dani turned to Mike and Erin. “I’m riding along.” When the EMTs nodded, she looked for Mo and founded him standing at the edge of the crowd, where all their friends stood huddled. When had they gotten here? She jogged over.

  “How is he?” Billy asked just as Shayna said, “Is he okay?”

  “Better than I expected. Banged up and having some vision issues in one eye from a cut. The visor to his helmet caved in.”

  “Jesus,” Noah said, with Kristina tucked tight beside him. “That helmet probably saved his life.”

  Dani nodded, itching to get back to Sean’s side. “Listen, they’re taking him to University. I’m riding in the ambulance.”

  “Go. We’ll see you over there,” Mo said.

  With that Dani rushed to the open rear door and climbed up into the rig. Garcia was at the wheel, and Bronson was busy getting the stretcher secured and Sean hooked up to everything he needed to be hooked up to.

  “I need you belted in, too,” Erin said to her.

  Dani was already doing it. It wasn’t a helicopter, of course, but the same safety protocols applied and her muscle memory kicked in to secure herself. And then she reached out to Sean. She wasn’t sure how to touch him in a way that wouldn’t hurt, so she rested her hand on his wrist.

  His gaze cut to her. “Do I know how to show a woman a good time on a Saturday night or what?” The words were full of humor even as the storm roiling in his dark-eyed gaze wasn’t.

  “If you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked,” she said with a smirk.

  “You would’ve cut me off at the knees.”

  “Damn straight.” She squeezed his arm and her thumb rubbed back and forth just to take a little of the bite out of the words.

  “Don’t get soft on me now, Dani,” he said, his voice like sandpaper had scoured his throat. She didn’t need him to explain that. The minute she got soft with him, he’d know something was really wrong.

  It took fifteen minutes to get across town to the hospital, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

  Whatever the weird nature of their drive-each-other-fucking-crazy status was, Dani was glad that she could be there for Sean.

  Even if being there for a man she sometimes wanted to strangle made her feel even worse for not having been there for the man she’d loved.

  Chapter Three

  It wasn’t often that Dani found herself in the hospital’s waiting room as a visitor, and she freaking hated it. She’d stayed with Sean long enough to get him admitted and triaged, long enough to see them cut off his shirt so they could examine his abdomen, long enough for the team to determine he needed a CT scan to both check for a head injury and evaluate the orbital trauma.

  Which was where he was now.

  At least she had everyone from WFC here waiting with her. Mo sat with a cup of coffee in his hands that she hadn’t seen him once drink. Kristina sat with her head against Noah’s shoulder, both of her hands wrapped tight around one of his as if she were holding h
im together. And Dani guessed by the way Noah’s knee was bouncing that maybe Kris was doing just that. Over meals and other get-togethers this past year, Dani had gotten to know Kristina Moore, and it was clear how much strength Noah drew from her. Given how wrecked Noah had been when he’d first joined WFC, Dani knew their relationship had started off rocky. But to look at them now, you’d never know it.

  Her gaze moved next to Billy and Shayna. His elbows resting on his knees, his hands slack, his head hanging down. The position exposed some of the burn scars on the back of his neck from an explosion that had taken out a lot of his Ranger unit. Dani had been out of the army by the time that’d happened, but she still knew enough people in the service that word sometimes got to her. And since she’d worked on more than a few Rangers over the years, word of the ambush that had killed Billy’s teammates made its way to her before she’d ever even met him. Next to him, Shayna sat with her hand massaging the back of Billy’s neck, her fingers occasionally stroking the ends of his hair.

  Shayna tucked her dark hair behind an ear and unleashed a long sigh. “Come on, Sean.” The whispered plea made the backs of Dani’s eyes prick. Last fall, Shayna and Sean had worked a disaster together—her as a journalist and him as a firefighter—and something about that experience had forged almost a sibling type of closeness between them.

  Opposite them, Tara sat on a couch, her back resting against Jesse’s chest. Their hands were entangled and resting against Tara’s belly. Tara’s head leaned against her free hand and her eyes were closed, but the tension in her posture made it clear she wasn’t resting. Every so often, Jesse pressed a kiss to her hair.

  The couples weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary for lovers, but fuck if they weren’t making something inside Dani ache, something that she didn’t even want to think about let alone feel. Six years ago, she’d packed away the part of her that needed the kind of quiet yet fundamental intimacy that came from sharing life and love with another person. And she wanted that need to stay all put away.