Fuel the Fire Read online

  Her muscles tightened around him, and he paused, gritting his teeth as he held himself still, reveling at the sensations. Her hips moved again, once, twice, then she adjusted her position, her legs now wrapped around his, her heels pressed against the back of his knees. Both hands cupped his ass now, and she rocked her hips again, pulling him even deeper inside. He hissed, reveling in the feel of her, her breasts squished against his chest, her hot skin pressed against his, his cock deep inside, his balls nestling against her pussy. She tried to pull him even deeper inside, but he couldn’t get any closer.

  With exquisite slowness, he pulled out, almost to the point of complete withdrawal, then surged forward again. The friction exquisite, Jeremy sought to hold on, but her rocking hips, her quiet urgings, the groans erupting from her throat, propelled him on. She repositioned her legs, her heels digging into the mattress on either side of him, her hips rocking faster, compelling him to match her pace.

  “Deeper!” she gasped.

  He did his best, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling the entire length of her body closer to his as he deepened his thrusts and accelerated his pace. Soon, their skin grew slippery with sweat. He tried to slow his pace, to extend the pleasure, but it was too much, and they tumbled together toward oblivion. His cock pushed impossibly deep inside her, their hips now the only parts of their body moving, slowing as pleasure washed over him and lightening surged up his spine. Rachel groaned, deeply, her hands cupping his ass, hard, and then she froze. He felt her muscles tightening around his cock, spasming as she orgasmed, and then he too let go. Pleasure surged through him, and he shuddered until he had not one drop left to give. Lost in feeling, he collapsed on top of her for several moments, both of them gasping for breath. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. Shit. He’d forgotten the condom. He quickly jolted upright, his cock still buried deep inside her. “Rachel, I forgot—”

  She pulled him back down on top of her. “It’s okay, Jeremy. I’m protected. Just let’s lie here a little while longer, just like this, okay?”

  He did, acquiescing to her wishes, not wanting to move anyway. He wished he could stay like this forever. Gradually, their breathing slowed, his cock softened, and he eventually pulled out of her, his arm still wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto her side, both of them facing each other, holding desperately to one another. He sensed another sound over that of her breathing. Damn it. She was crying.

  He shifted his arms, one cradling the back of her head, gently pressing her forehead into his neck, her breath hot on his neck. It’d been a long day. An emotional day. Their passionate, needy sex over, they both now succumbed to the burdens and the weight of their losses. He allowed her to weep for several moments and then gently broke away, brushing the hair from her face and the tears from her cheeks as she rolled onto her back. He lay on his side next to her, balancing his head on his elbow. Now it was time to talk.

  “So, what happened?” She turned to him, her eyes filled with tears, glistening, and when she blinked, a tear dripped from the corner. He brushed it away at the pad of his thumb.

  “Dr. Moeller accused me of making a mistake with the medications. Saying that my mistake killed David.” She choked on the words and stifled a slob, her fingers lifted to her mouth, stilling the trembling of her lips as she closed her eyes in disbelief. “I may be a bit rusty with med passes, but I didn’t make a mistake, Jeremy. I took extra special care to make sure I double-checked everything!”

  “I knew he was an arrogant prick, but an accusation like this . . .”

  “It’s serious,” she nodded. “He’s already informed the DON and the assistant administrator. I’m not to be in the ER, and he ordered me not to go near any of his patients.” She shook her head. “What the hell is happening? So many first responders . . . we haven’t lost any civilians, thank God, but—”

  “Unusual yes, but given the circumstances, not totally unexpected or inexplicable.”

  She slowly shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I feel it. I wonder . . .” She turned to him, a frown marring her brow. “Do you think it was Dr. Moeller who made a mistake? He needed someone to blame, and I was handy?”

  Jeremy stiffened. “He has an excellent reputation, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does, but it’s still a possibility. When I went up to see David earlier today, he was in David’s room . . . he got quite upset when I popped my head in to see how David was doing.”

  Jeremy said nothing. He understood Rachel’s concerns and her fear. An accusation such as this and the investigation that would certainly follow were frightening. She had to be concerned, not only for her reputation, but her career.

  “Let them do their investigation then,” he said softly, his fingers threading through her hair. “I know you’re scared, but try not to worry. Moeller is a jerk, but I don’t think you have any reason . . . maybe something happened with David that no one expected. A blood clot? Who knows?”

  Rachel nodded. “I suppose so. They haven’t done the autopsy yet, but I just find it odd that . . .”

  She said nothing more, and Jeremy didn’t press her. He leaned upward over her and smiled. “I think you might need another shower. Why don’t you go ahead and take one while I fix something to eat? And then we both need to get back to work.”

  She said nothing, but nodded, rising from the bed and walking to the bathroom, completely naked but not at all self-conscious. He couldn’t help but admire her figure and wished that he could do something about the slump to her shoulders, the dejected look on her face.

  Switching her scrubs from the washer to the dryer, Jeremy sighed. He’d known Rachel long enough to gauge her moods. Her expression told him she hovered now between despair and anger. Frustration. He was sure that once she got back to the hospital, she’d try to get more information on David’s death . . . and she was right. It was unusual that so many first responders had been injured or died, but then again, how often did a tornado sweep through Monroe? While he still had plenty of questions regarding Brian’s death, he wasn’t a doctor. He knew next to nothing about comorbidity factors such as blood clots, nerve damage, or why heart attacks happened to young people. Nothing in this life was guaranteed. He knew that. He knew Rachel understood that as well. If he and Rachel were honest, they both knew that because of the inherent dangers of the job, injury and sometimes even death were, at some point in their career, more likely than not.

  He heard the squeak of the faucet knobs, then the pelting of water onto the tub as Rachel took another quick shower. He rose from the bed and walked back into the living room, where his clothes lay in a pile beside the couch. Just the thought of what they’d done together brought him quickly to a semi-hard state again. He glanced at his dick, shook his head, and then quickly dressed. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink, deciding he’d make them each a stuffed omelet and fresh coffee. Protein and coffee. What else did one need?

  As the eggs simmered in the pan, he strode to the cabinet containing the washer and dryer and pulled her scrubs from the dryer and quickly folded them and left them outside the bathroom door.

  When Rachel emerged from the shower and entered the kitchen, her freshly washed clothes couldn’t hide her red-rimmed and slightly bloodshot eyes and her red nose from a fresh bout of weeping. Jeremy wanted to sweep her into his arms again, kiss her tears of sorrow away and make everything better.

  “Smells good,” she said. The coffee machine had just finished gurgling, and in that moment, her stomach grumbled loudly. He smiled and offered the best advice he could give her. “Be patient, Rachel. Do what you can at work, and do your best to stay away from Dr. Moeller. I’m sure that everything will be straightened out as soon as all this is over.” He waved his hand, gesturing outside. It had to be. She deserved it.

  Rachel sat down on a barstool in front of the small counter that separated the kitchen area from the living room. “I’m glad your house wasn’t severely damaged,” she said, changing the subject. “From what I coul
d tell, you’re missing a few roof shingles, and you’ve got a cracked window, but at least it wasn’t worse.”

  “Definitely,” he said. Jeremy slid an omelet from the frying pan onto a plate and put it in front of her on the counter. If she didn’t want to talk about it, then that was fine by him. God knows, they both deserved a moment of peace with the last few days, and what was still to come. He moved to the silverware drawer, pulled out a fork and gave that to her, then poured her a cup of steaming coffee. Turning back to the stove, he poured the rest of the egg batter into the frying pan for his own omelet. While it fried, he watched Rachel, unable to take his eyes off her. Hopefully, she’d be able to avoid Dr. Moeller today. He didn’t work in a hospital, but he’d been a firefighter long enough to know that some doctors had a lot of power. As one of the best neurosurgeons in the region, Dr. Moeller was highly respected, and crossing him could cost Rachel, personally or careerwise, even if it was found she’d done nothing wrong.

  “I just can’t believe all this,” she said, staring at the omelet. Reluctantly, she stabbed at the folded egg and then took a bite.

  She chewed, but he didn’t think she even tasted it. Jeremy couldn’t claim to know how she felt. He’d never been accused of making a fatal mistake, but he knew the risks. Was it possible she had made a medication error? Sure, just like it was possible for him to make a mistake in his line of work. No one was invincible. But she’d been so sure, so adamant that she hadn’t. He frowned. He believed her. Trusted her. Rachel was right. It was odd that so many first responders had died in such a short period of time, in spite of the tornado. In spite of the unknowns. He tried to think back when they had last lost a firefighter in the county. It must be at least fifteen years, and now a cluster, three firefighters, two dead, one severely burned, and David, the EMT dying unexpectedly from what appeared to be nothing more serious than a couple of fractures and a possible concussion. Maybe he’d do some asking around about Dr. Moeller himself, about anything strange going on at the hospital. He didn’t want to give Rachel any ideas though, so kept his thoughts to himself. He’d take the risk. The worst the doctor could do to him was complain to his chief. Jeremy grinned around a mouthful of coffee. Alex would probably agree with him once he knew the whole story.

  “Eat up,” he urged her. “Then we both have to get back to work. You do what you can at the hospital, and I’ll do what I can out there. Everything will turn out in the end, I know it. Okay?”

  Without a word, she nodded, then took another bite of her omelet, swallowed, then followed that with a sip of coffee. The remainder of breakfast was a quiet, contemplative affair for both of them.

  14

  Rachel

  By the time Jeremy dropped her back at the hospital, Rachel felt a bit more fortified. The sex, the shower, then breakfast, with the calmer atmosphere at his house and the support she got from Jeremy made her feel better. She would do what she could to help on the other floors, in her department, and stay out of Dr. Moeller’s way. It still disturbed her that he’d even suggested such an accusation, but she couldn’t do anything about that now.

  One thing she hadn’t mentioned to Jeremy was her real suspicions. While she supposed that Jeremy was right, that first responders were likely to get hurt and killed in the line of duty, Brian had died unexpectedly, after he was supposed to have been stabilized. So had the firefighter from the other engine company, George McPhearson. And then David. That was totally out of left field. Then there was the cop—Michael Bascom, who would soon be transferred to the burn unit in Augusta. She couldn’t help derail her train of thought. Her growing suspicions. Had Dr. Moeller attended each of them? Rachel snorted. It was a ridiculous thought, thinking that Dr. Moeller had something to do with it. He was the primary ER doctor. Of course, he might very well have seen all of them upon their arrival in the Emergency Room. And why would he want them dead? He had no motive, no reason. His reputation preceded him. He was like a god in this region because of his skills.

  Still . . .

  When she walked through the front lobby doors of the hospital, Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise at the new surge of people crowding the lobby and off to the left in the Emergency Department waiting room. Nurses scrambled, obviously stressed and under pressure, and she felt guilty for having left even for just a couple of hours. She wanted desperately to go help them but was under orders to stay away from the ER. Grumbling under her breath, she waded her way through the crowd. Her eyebrows furrowed as individuals caught her eye. Very few of them had any injuries. They were probably friends and family of those in the Emergency Department or perhaps even upstairs. She hoped most of the emergent cases had already been treated. Wanting to avoid Dr. Moeller at all costs, at least for the time being, she headed for the stairs. She could go up to Radiology, or perhaps the post-surgical floor, or to the floor where they had transferred patients with non-emergent issues. Surely she could help somewhere. She started up the steps, then paused. There was an odd sound echoing from below. What was that?

  She paused, listening for a moment. Damn, it was the sound of muffled crying, and it came from below her, the steps heading down to the basement, medical records, and the morgue. Her eyes widened when she saw the hunched figure sitting in the middle of the steps between the main floor and the basement.

  “Dalisay! What’s wrong?” Rachel hurried down the steps and sat next to a young Filipino. Dalisay sat curled up on herself, her face buried in her hands.

  Dalisay didn’t move for several moments, and then her shoulders stilled, and she lifted her head, eyes reddened from crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. She brushed them away and offered a wan smile. “Just . . . just a rotten day,” she said.

  Rachel nodded. “Believe me, I understand. Have you had a break? Have you been able to go home at all?”

  “I don’t want to go home,” she said softly. “It’s too quiet, too lonely.”

  Rachel frowned. Dalisay lived with her parents just outside of the west end of town. A nice neighborhood, not rich by any means, but nice. Her parents were a lovely older couple that often brought food for the nurses, wonderful Filipino food that filled the nurse’s lounge with mouthwatering aromas. “Quiet?”

  Dalisay looked at her, her mouth open, lips trembling, her face crumbling again with sorrow. “My parents died a couple of weeks ago—”

  “Oh no!” Rachel gasped. “Dalisay! Why didn’t you say anything? That’s just terrible! I’m so sorry . . . truly, truly sorry.” Oh God, her parents were dead? What happened? There was no way she was asking. Instead, Rachel wrapped her arms around Dalisay’s shoulders, pulled her close, and offered her a heartfelt hug. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Dalisay shook her head, sniffling as she stared down at her hands. After several moments, she pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her scrub top. She dabbed at her eyes and her nose. Suddenly, she scowled, her mouth twisted, and for the briefest of moments, her expression hardened.

  “It was a car accident,” she said, her voice breaking. “Next county over. They were on their way home from fishing at the lake. Two car accident . . . they both had multiple blunt force trauma injuries . . .”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rachel murmured, knowing that words would never take the pain away.

  “They were taken to St. Mary’s, but because of their injuries, Doctor Moeller was brought in to consult.”

  Because of his skills and specialty, Dr. Moeller was often called to consult for doctors assessing brain and spinal injuries in their patients throughout the region. Rachel said nothing, waiting for Dalisay to continue if she wanted. She knew the importance of letting people express their emotions in their own good time, much like Jeremy had offered to her just a little while ago.

  “There was nothing he could do, he said,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “Their injuries were too severe. There was a woman and two teenagers in the other car. They’re still trying to figure out whose fault it was. The woman had trauma to her spine, and Doct
or Moeller opted to operate on her . . .”

  It was an excruciating decision to have to make, Rachel knew, even for Dr. Moeller. Having limited resources and being forced to choose whom to save based on who had a better chance not only to survive, but to thrive. She wanted to be angry at Dr. Moeller, especially on top of the accusation he’d announced only hours ago, but even he, despite his reputation, couldn’t save everyone.

  “I’m so sorry,” Rachel said, again placing a hand on Dalisay’s shoulder. Dalisay merely nodded, then closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall as she sucked in a deep breath. Rachel rested her hand on Dailsay’s shoulder and squeezed before letting go and dropping her hand to her side. Dailsay didn’t open her eyes or talk anymore, and Rachel slowly stood. She’d find her friend again soon and make sure she was okay, but it seemed like, for now, Dailsay wanted some time alone, and Rachel had intruded on that. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, all right? I’ll be around, probably upstairs, but you can always have me paged.”

  Dalisay nodded but still didn’t open her eyes. Rachel quietly moved away, giving the woman her space. Her heart heavy, dismayed, she climbed back up the stairs to the first floor, then continued on, shaking her head at the vagaries of life. Over and over, she just kept thinking the same thought. Here one minute, gone the next.

  For the next few hours, Rachel kept herself busy helping out where she could on the floors, checking stats, answering call lights, trying to soothe family members of patients or answer their many questions. Another wave of mild-to-moderate injuries had come into the hospital soon after she’d returned. She’d only heard of a few serious cases, one of whom was in surgery. It still frustrated her to no end that Dr. Moeller had ordered her out of the ER. They were shorthanded as it was! While some of the staff did manage to get through the wreckage on the roads, there were still many others who had not made it in to work, many who lived out in the outlying regions beyond the city limits.