Читать книгу Her Perfect Hero - Kara Lennox, Kara Lennox - Страница 10

“I never met Uncle Brady, did I?” Belinda asked as she and Julie climbed the stairs to the apartment above the bar where Brady had lived.

“No, I don’t think you ever met him.” She only had a vague memory herself of a big bear of a man who showed up at Thanksgiving with a fruitcake, drank too much wine and was asked to leave. “He sent Mom a little check every once in a while—her part of the ‘profits’ from the bar. But he and Mom hardly ever talked. Mom sent him a Christmas card every year, but he never reciprocated.”

“Tony said he was a great guy.”

“Brady probably gave Tony free beer.” But Tony had painted an image of Brady that Julie couldn’t get out of her mind. A soft touch. Generous and kind. Sure didn’t sound like the mooch her mother had described.

“How much do you think we’ll get for all that stuff downstairs?” Belinda asked.

“I’ll have to do some research, but I bet those vintage signs will fetch a good price.”

“What about those green glass lampshades? Trey has some of those, doesn’t he?”

Julie gave an unladylike snort. “Trey’s are reproductions. Ours are the real thing. In fact, maybe I’ll keep those. They’ll look pretty in the tearoom, don’t you think?”

Belinda shrugged. “Will you keep the jukebox?”

“No, that I’m going to sell. It’s an old Wurlitzer, and the vinyl records alone are worth a fortune.”

Rather than sounding excited about the prospect, Belinda gave a sad little huff.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just a bit tragic thinking about tearing the place up.”

“Belinda, you must be joking. It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, but that guy Tony was right. If you scrubbed it up, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not running a bar.” Even if she had the experience or knowledge, she preferred the idea of improving the neighborhood. Brady’s had been an eyesore, no doubt drawing unsavory characters. Belinda’s was going to be beautiful. Maybe the firefighters were unhappy about her planned changes, but she bet most of the residents around here would be delighted.

“I know, I know,” Belinda said. “I’m just saying it’s a little sad, that’s all.”

Julie tried several keys from the big key ring the lawyer had given her mother, finally locating the right one. She’d been avoiding the place where her uncle had died, but she knew she had to check it out. She was planning to live here while she oversaw the renovations—and maybe afterward, too. It would save her a long commute to work, plus she would have her privacy back. Living in her parents’ tiny house, where they were all on top of each other and getting on each other’s nerves, wasn’t going to work for much longer.

This apartment would do until she could afford something better. Someday, she’d like to have her own house. It didn’t have to be anything as grand as Trey’s Highland Park house, where she would be living now if she hadn’t canceled the wedding. But she wanted a front porch. And flower boxes in the windows. And a real backyard, maybe with a deck where she could sit outside on a Sunday morning and read the paper, a golden retriever by her side.

Still, a one-bedroom apartment rent-free wasn’t bad. She held her breath and pushed open the door.

Brady’s living space was surprisingly neat, clean and spartan, given the excessive grime and clutter of the bar. Julie had always heard Brady described as a man who couldn’t be trusted. Lazy, slovenly, a freeloader—those were words her mother commonly used to describe Brady. Yet that image didn’t match his digs.

Julie poked around to see if there might be any valuables, but aside from a couple of old paintings and some vintage Fiesta dishes, nothing jumped out as a real treasure.

The bedroom was empty except for a dresser. Someone had removed the bed in which Brady had expired, which was a huge relief. No way would Julie have been able to sleep there.

She returned to the living room and sank onto a worn sofa. It was pretty soft—she could sleep on this. And Belinda would be happy to get her own room back at their parents’ house. The sisters had been sharing a room and a bed, just like old times, for the past couple of weeks.

“So what do you think?” Belinda asked. “Can you live here?”

“Sure. I’ve lived in worse places.” Her first apartment—when she’d gotten her first real job as a stock girl at Bailey-Davidson’s—had been one ratty room in the attic of an old East Dallas house. She’d done her cooking on a hot plate.

Brady’s living quarters were a palace compared to that but something of a comedown from her last place—a classy Park Cities town house she’d rented from the Davidsons. Still, she had a little money to live on, the proceeds from returning all the wedding presents—the ones her friends and family had refused to take back. And Trey’s parents had given her a handsome “severance check” in return for her silence about his little secret, which she’d been happy to accept—not that she ever would have gone blabbing about the illegitimate child he’d conceived with his mistress even as he’d been planning a lavish wedding to Julie. Gossip like that would only make her look dumb. Her stash was enough to keep her going until the tearoom opened.

“The view is certainly nice,” Belinda said dreamily.

Julie glanced out the window to see what her sister was talking about. All she could see was the fire station, a hundred-year-old brick monstrosity in need of a good sandblasting.

Then she looked closer and realized the blinds to the second-floor window were open; inside a man was pulling off his T-shirt. “Belinda!”

“What? I can look, can’t I?”

Julie joined her sister at the window. The man picked up a barbell and started doing some curls. It was none other than her firefighting Adonis. “He’s doing that on purpose.”

“Oh, like he knew we’d be up here, staring out the window? Get a grip, Jules. You’re paranoid.”

Maybe she was. But her reaction to Tony Veracruz had unnerved her.

She’d once felt that way about Trey. He’d flirted with her shamelessly, focused all his attention on her, swept her off her feet. She’d fallen in love, hard, with a man she thought she knew. Handsome, smart, ambitious, funny, generous…

Unfaithful.

Feeling all gooey inside over a man, getting caught up in flirtation and charm—none of those offered any guarantee of that man’s deep-down character. Julie would do well to remember that and to focus on building a secure future for herself without relying on anyone else.

Tony looked out the window, saw them staring and flashed that cocky smile.

Julie abruptly closed the blinds.

“Hey!” Belinda objected.

“He’s too old for you.”

“But not for you. Earlier, he was checking out your butt.”

“Really?” Despite herself, Julie felt a little thrill. “He probably checks out every girl’s butt.”

“He didn’t look at mine. Besides, he’s going to be your neighbor. You have to be friendly.”

“No, I don’t.” Tony Veracruz was trouble with a capital T, and she certainly didn’t need any more of that.

“SO ARE YOU GOING TO tell us what happened?” Priscilla asked. As busy as their shift had been earlier, activity had died down completely. Pris was killing time in Station 59’s exercise room, running on the treadmill.

Priscilla was a maniac when it came to fitness and she’d guilted almost every firefighter on their shift into working out more. It was humiliating when a wisp of a woman like Pris could lift more weight than you.

Tony had found it difficult to admit to his coworkers the horrible news about what was happening to Brady’s Tavern. They’d given him a task: convince the bar’s new owner to reopen Brady’s just as it was. And though he knew he had nothing to do with Julie’s decision to turn Brady’s into a tea-room, he still felt as if he’d let down his comrades.

Mission failed.

Not only that, but beautiful Julie Polk had said no when he’d asked her out. Oh, she was interested. She’d acted a little fluttery when he’d told her she was pretty, and he’d felt some definite vibes flash through the air between them. But she’d been prickly, too. Her mind was so filled with plans for her tearoom that romance was way down on her priority list.

He knew darn well he shouldn’t be thinking about romance either. He was still smarting from Daralee’s sudden rejection. He’d thought their relationship was going somewhere. They’d been so crazy about each other. Now he knew he’d been nothing but a boy toy to her, someone to irk her exhusband. When that hadn’t worked, he’d become history.

But just looking at Julie sent his hormones into a frenzy. Could he help it if he liked having a girlfriend? Still, the next time he fell head over heels for someone, he wanted the same feelings in return. He didn’t want to be a low priority or an afterthought.

“Earth to Tony,” Priscilla said impatiently. “Did you hear me?”

Sooner or later everyone would find out about Julie’s plans. He might as well break the news. “I heard you. It’s just too horrible what she’s doing to Brady’s.”

Priscilla gasped. “Is she tearing down the building? Granted, it needs work, but isn’t it a historical landmark or something?”

“She’s doing worse than that. It’s sacrilege.”

Now he had Ethan’s and Otis’s attention, too. And Jim Peterson’s. “Would you just tell us instead of being a drama queen?” said Peterson, pedaling at a leisurely pace on the stationary bike.

“She’s turning Brady’s into a tearoom.”

Otis dropped his barbell with a clang. Ethan’s jaw sagged.

Priscilla, however, didn’t appear horrified. “A tearoom. Right here in our neighborhood.”

Ethan groaned. “Only you, Priscilla, would find this news welcome.”

“I would miss Brady’s, but a tearoom could be good. I could do lunch there.”

Otis threw his sweaty towel at her. “And where exactly are us men supposed to hang out?”

Priscilla turned off the treadmill and slowed to a stop. “At least maybe we could get some healthy food there. A salad or…” Loud groans cut her off. She shrugged. “I can’t help you if you won’t help yourselves.”

“Pris, maybe you should talk to her,” Tony said. “Woman to woman. Tell her how important Brady’s is to this neighborhood. It’s important for us and the cops to have a neutral place to meet and talk things over.”

Pris gave Tony an appraising look. “If you can’t convince her, I don’t have a chance. Is she married?”

“I don’t think so.” He hadn’t seen a ring, anyway.

“You’re just gonna have to try harder,” Ethan said.

“Seduce her,” Otis added. “Once she’s sleeping with you, she’ll have to listen to you. Chicks are like that.”

Priscilla threw the sweaty towel back at Otis. “Typical male logic. Men think with their gonads. Women think with their brains.”

“Just give it the old college try,” Ethan said. “Get to know her, let her get to know you and then convince her to reopen Brady’s. We’re sick of seeing you mope about Daralee. About time you found a new girlfriend.”

Tony couldn’t deny he wanted to give Julie another try—smart move or not. Since meeting her a few minutes earlier, he’d had a hard time remembering exactly why he’d thought he was in love with Daralee. But cold-blooded seduction wasn’t his game. He liked women. He didn’t like the idea of using them, even for a good cause. And then there was his own much-stomped-on heart to think of.

“I’d love to have a new girlfriend,” Tony said more candidly than he’d meant to. He focused on Ethan. “I want what you and Kat have. But I’m not sure Julie’s the one to provide it. She’s a tough cookie.”

Ethan shook his head as he wiped down the weight bench he’d been using. “If you go in with that attitude, expecting to strike out…”

“Look,” said Otis, “here’s what you do. You harden your heart. Every time you look at Julie, you think Daralee. You remember how bad she treated you. You remind yourself that women are evil incarnate.”

“Hey,” Priscilla objected.

“Present company excluded,” Otis said quickly. He’d been one of the ones to object the loudest when the fire station got invaded by a woman, but he and Priscilla had formed an unlikely friendship, surprising everyone. “If you feel yourself softening even a little bit toward this Julie person, you come talk to me and I’ll set you straight.”

Tony supposed Otis would be the one to do that. He had three ex-wives. “If you’re such an expert, why don’t you seduce her?”

“Me?” He gave a loud, hearty laugh and patted his gut. “That girl isn’t looking for a fat, old black man. She’s looking for a young stud like you. Besides, my Ruby would kill me if I went near that sweet young thing.”

The P.A. system crackled to life. “Dinner is now being served in the kitchen,” Lt. Murph McCrae’s gruff voice announced. “Come get it now or go hungry.”

The firefighters didn’t have to be asked twice. They tromped down the stairs in a hungry stampede. But before they could sit down, the alarm sounded. And before they’d even climbed into their turnout gear, a second alarm went out.

“Sounds big,” Tony said, pushing thoughts of Julie out of his mind for the moment. Another dose of adrenaline surged through his body. He was on the ladder truck today with Ethan, the captain and Jim Peterson. He hadn’t been to many big fires, and just the thought of descending on a big conflagration got him as excited as a young kid at an amusement park.

This one was big, too. It was at a run-down auto-body shop, which meant gasoline, oil—potential explosions.

“IC to Ladder 59,” came the incident commander’s voice over the radio. “Need y’all on the B side of the building on ventilation. Start getting those walls down, if you can.”

Captain Campeon, on the ladder truck, abruptly ordered a change of direction, and the truck turned down a side street, raced through an alley and parked in a vacant lot just behind the burning building. Tony chugged the remainder of a bottle of water. On a hot day like today, it paid to stay hydrated.

“Grab your tools, rookies,” Campeon ordered. Tony did as he was told, collecting an ax and a pike pole. Then he took up a position at veteran Jim Peterson’s elbow. That was his only assignment—stick to Peterson like bubblegum. The hot August sun would roast him alive inside his turnout gear if he stood out in it for long.

“Basque,” Campeon barked, “get a ladder up to that roof. Peterson, Veracruz, get the window.”

The window was barred, but it was easy enough to break the glass using their pikes. As soon as they did, smoke poured out and that was when they heard a dog howling inside.

Tony hated the thought of a helpless animal dying in a fire. Normally, firefighters would rescue pets if it was possible to do so without dramatically endangering themselves.

“Hell, let’s see if we can get to him,” Peterson said. The back door was solid-core steel, but the walls were thin corrugated tin. Tony whacked at the wall with his ax and then Peterson yanked at it until they had an opening.

“Ladder 59 to IC, there’s a dog inside. Request permission to enter and try to get him out. Not much fire back here.”

“Affirmative, Ladder 59.”

“I’ll go first,” Peterson said to Tony, pulling on his air mask as he set one leg through the jagged opening.

With his own breathing mask in place, Tony climbed in right after Peterson.

They’d no sooner gotten inside than a blur of brown fur rushed at them. It flew through the air and latched on to Jim Peterson’s arm, growling furiously. The dog, a pit bull mix, wasn’t huge, but it was determined.

Peterson fell back on his butt, cursing wildly. “Get this damn thing off me!”

Tony gave the dog a kick. And when that didn’t dislodge it, he prodded it firmly with the flat side of his ax. He didn’t want to kill the creature, but he didn’t want it to maim his superior, either.

The dog remained firmly attached.

“Ladder 59 to IC,” Tony said into his radio, trying not to sound panicked. “We need some water back here, fast!”

But the call for help was unnecessary; two men were already approaching with a hose. They saw the situation for what it was and blasted the dog with a hard stream of water.

The spray nearly drowned Peterson, but the dog let go. It leaped through the makeshift door and was gone. Tony had never seen a dog run that fast.

“You okay, Jim?” Tony asked, helping Peterson to his feet.

“No. Damn dog has sharp teeth and the jaws of death.”

Just as they were emerging through the opening in the wall, an air horn sounded, the signal to evacuate the building. It was too dangerous to remain. Tony was surprised: the building hadn’t looked all that bad inside.

An ambulance had already pulled around to the vacant lot in back as Peterson and Tony emerged. Peterson yanked off his mask, his face tightened in pain. Tony couldn’t see any blood—until Peterson took off his coat.

His arm was a mess.

Once the paramedics took over, Tony located Ethan and Captain Campeon. They were as baffled as he was about why they’d been told to clear the building. The fire seemed to be under control.

A few moments later, however, they found out why.

Two incendiary devices had been found at opposite ends of the structure and one on the roof. By now, everyone knew what to look for; this was unmistakably the work of their serial arsonist. Planting a vicious attack dog on the scene was his latest trick to inflict bodily damage on firefighters. Not as showy as the deadly warehouse fire, in which the roof had been rigged to collapse, but still clever and mean. And there was no guarantee he hadn’t planted other booby traps inside. At the previous fire he’d set a pipe bomb that fortunately hadn’t detonated.

A fire marshal’s Suburban showed up as Tony and Ethan cleaned and loaded their tools, talking in hushed voices about the arsonist. Captain Roark Epperson, lead investigator on the case, stepped out, his face grim.

Tony knew Epperson from the training academy; he’d been an instructor there. He also knew Epperson from hanging out at Brady’s Tavern. They’d crossed swords over the shuffleboard table a few times.

The ambulance took Peterson to the hospital for stitches and a shot of antibiotics, so Tony took the rare opportunity to sit beside the captain.

“Epperson’s gotta be taking this hard,” Campeon said as he pulled their truck out of the alley. They drove slowly past the front of the building. Roark was standing in the street, talking to one of the remaining firefighters. “Hey, is that Priscilla he’s talking to?”

“Yeah,” Tony and Ethan said together. Priscilla had been riding on the engine.

“How does he know her?”

“He was our arson instructor at the academy,” Tony answered. “And we’ve run into him a few times at Brady’s.”

Campeon snorted. “Brady’s. Damn shame. That niece has no idea the disservice she’s doing to the community by destroying that bar.” He turned to Tony. “Didn’t I hear you were doing something about that, Romeo?”

“He’s flakin’ out on us,” Ethan said. “He struck out once, so he’s not even gonna try again.”

“I didn’t say that,” Tony argued. In truth, he was still making up his mind.

“You gotta try,” Campeon said, showing a rare degree of humanity. Normally he remained stoic and stone-faced no matter was going on around him. “You gotta get through to her. A tearoom? Holy cripes.”

All right, Tony would do it—for Brady’s. After all, his captain had just given him an order, right? He would seduce Julie Polk. He would pretend he wanted to help her get her tearoom open, but while he was doing it he would share stories about Brady’s that would appeal to her sentimentality. He would use every strategy he could think of to get her to change her mind.

Most importantly, he would not fall in love with her. He would not set himself up for more heartbreak.