The Fireman and the Cop

wooden structures. He assisted the team and listened to the chatter. There was a body in the second cabin. By the time they got here, that cabin had been burning well and there’d been no chance of getting to whoever the hell was inside. Bile rose inside him—he’d seen enough death to have a healthy respect for it but that didn’t mean it didn’t make him sick.

The other cabin was destroyed as well, but apparently the owner, it seemed to be Daniel’s mom, had woken and managed to get out. It wasn’t until they were putting up the hoses that he looked around to notice that Daniel, his mom and Kieran had disappeared. He couldn’t see Finn either and he assumed Finn had taken the others to another cabin, or even back to his house. This was a bad fire and Finn wouldn’t want anyone to see what was in cabin one.

“Whose cabin is it?” one of the other volunteer guys asked. “Was it Fitz? Is he still in there?”

“He’s out back. Max, come back here,” Quinn called from the other side of the blackened shell of the cabin.

Max crossed to where Quinn stood then looked down at the face of the man who had stumbled out of the cop building fire where he had rescued Finn. Mike Fitzgerald.

He wasn’t burned. He wasn’t actually in the structure itself, but he was dead from a bullet wound through his forehead. His broken body was left on the back porch. Whoever had killed him—and it had to be murder—had set a fire to cover their tracks, maybe in the hope that the fire would destroy evidence. The fire had spread, radiated

“No,” he managed to bite out. “Wanna sit up,” he said. The words were clearer but fuck, it hurt to push the sounds out of him.

Josh helped him to sit up. Max was thankful his brother hadn’t called in a nurse who was bound to stick him or prod him or tell him to lie down again.

“So,” Josh started as he sat on the side of the bed. “I’m guessing you want to know what the fuck happened?”

Finn managed a nod and resolutely ignored the tightness at the base of his neck.

“Summing up, for some reason unknown to man, you decided to go back into a burning building for the town freaking drunk who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire and who—incidentally—managed to get out but then left you inside. Fucking asshole.”

Mike Fitzgerald? He’d gone in to pull the man out. He remembered the split-second decision, the single moment when he’d been the only one who’d realised that a man was locked in holding. The fire had taken hold so fast there had been no time to take stock of anything. Gut reaction was all he’d had. Fitzgerald? No one would ever label Mike Fitzgerald as anything but the town bastard, drunk and loser. Handy with his fists against family and strangers, there wasn’t a lot of love lost there between him and anyone who crossed his path. Hell, his own son had left town as soon as he’d turned sixteen just to get away. Josh was one of his least favourite fans and probably even more so now that Finn had risked his life for the old man.

“Sorry,” Finn groaned helplessly. What else could he say? Whatever had driven him back into the burning