of who was calling. Whenever his cell phone was turned off, they called her house. Just one more reason to despise the Detroit Fire Department.
“Hurry, baby, I need you so bad,” she cried, feeling Cal hesitate.
He looked down into her needy eyes, farther down to where their bodies were almost joined, his erection standing at full tilt, then, cursing under his breath, he rolled away from her to answer the phone.
Andrea reacted without thought, slamming her fist against the pillow. “But you’re off duty!” She knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but she couldn’t help it.
“I’m the chief now, Andrea. I have to be available at all times.” He picked up the cordless phone from its base. “Hello?”
His eyes widened and his head swung around to Andrea. Sensing something was terribly wrong, Andrea sat up in the bed as Cal continued the conversation.
“Hello, Mrs. Chenault. Uh, yes, she’s here. Um, just one moment.” He covered the mouthpiece on the receiver. “I’m sorry, baby. What the hell is your mother doing calling here at two in the morning?” he whispered nervously.
Andrea subconsciously glanced at the clock as if to mentally confirm the time. There was only one reason her mother would be calling at that hour.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she accepted the phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Andrea, I’m down at Detroit Receiving Hospital.” Margaret Chenault’s naturally soft voice was fainter than usual, and Andrea struggled to hear her. “I’m sorry to bother you like this, but do you think you can come get me?”
She was already scooting to the edge of the bed. There was no reason to ask why her mother was in the emergency room at two o’clock in the morning, she already knew.
“I’ll be right there.” A few seconds later, she hung up the phone and studiously avoided Cal’s eyes. She went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
Cal sat on the side of the bed watching her in silence. The amorous mood had completely dissipated.
Finally, when it became obvious Andrea was not going to volunteer any information, he asked the question, already knowing the answer. “He hit her again, didn’t he?”
Andrea was fully dressed and slipping her feet into a pair of sandals. “Yes.” She spoke barely above a whisper.
Instantly Cal was behind her protectively wrapping her in his arms, as if he could physically shield her from the pain. He asked another question that he already knew the answer to. “Can I come with you?”
Andrea dropped her head, and whispered, “No.”
“Why won’t you let me take care of him? Trust me, after I got through with him, he wouldn’t be hitting anybody.” He spoke with complete conviction, and Andrea believed him, which was why she refused his help.
“He’s still my father, Cal.”
Cal rested his chin on the top of her head. “Why you feel any loyalty to him is beyond me. But just so we understand each other, Andrea. If he ever lays a finger on you…all bets are off.”
She reached up and covered the strong arms that circled her body, savoring the feeling of warmth and love she knew she would need to get through the night. “Like I told you before, he’s never hit me. Just her…always her.”
“Why won’t she leave him?” he whispered in frustration.
Andrea’s mind was racing with images from her childhood and well into her adult years. So many memories, most of them not good. “When I have an answer to that question, I’ll tell you.”
Chapter 4
Three women filed into the spa for their monthly standing reservation. Even in the blue funk that Andrea had been experiencing lately, she couldn’t help but get excited about Spa Day.
As soon as they were through the door, the young lady at the counter smiled and greeted them. “Hello, ladies, your suite is ready. Just go on in and Zack will be right with you.”
Andrea followed Marty, who followed Dina through the frosted glass doors and into the long corridor that led to the client’s suites, ignoring the menacing stares of the walk-in clients who’d been waiting hours to get an appointment with the best masseur in Detroit.
The three were settled quickly into their suite by the spa staff. Their clothes had been traded for incredible soft terry robes. Each pair of tired, aching feet was luxuriating in a small whirlpool tub. They sat sipping on the fruity flavored protein drinks they’d been given to pass the time.
Although they had an appointment, they already knew they would be forced to wait, as well, but it was by choice. The spa employed eight masseurs, but unfortunately there was only one Zack, and everyone wanted him.
Spa Day usually took up all of Andrea’s monthly splurge money, but by the time Zack got through kneading and pounding her overworked muscles, somehow she just didn’t care.
Once they were well relaxed, and halfway through their protein shakes, they picked up the conversation that had started in the car.
“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, Andrea,” Marty said. “You are about to get married—that’s a huge commitment.”
Andrea shook her head in confusion. “It’s more than just that.”
Marty just quirked an eyebrow at her friend. “You love him, right? Nothing else should matter.”
“You don’t understand, Marty,” Dina said. “You’re one of them—when the bell rings you’re on the truck, adrenaline pumping and ready for action. But those of us left behind just waiting and praying, it’s different for us. I bet Cavanaugh understands.”
“Cavanaugh is completely supportive of my career,” she lied, and the other two women just stared at her. Marty stared back, but was unable to keep a straight face. Soon all three women were laughing so loudly the receptionist in the lobby turned her head at the curious noise.
“Okay, okay, maybe he’s not completely supportive, but he understands this is something I have to do.” She pointed a thin finger at Andrea. “And this is something Cal has to do. If you love him, you have to support him.”
Andrea had only recently expressed her concerns to her girlfriends, so torn as to what course of action she should take, she felt she could use some unbiased advice. The problem was that neither of her two closest friends was unbiased.
Marty, who was herself a firefighter, saw things only from the point of view of a firefighter, and Dina, Dwight’s wife of eight years, a seasoned firefighter’s spouse, had nothing but dire warnings regarding the years ahead and often came just short of saying get-out-while-you-can.
It may all be a moot point anyway, Andrea thought, but kept her mouth sealed. These women were like the sisters she never had, but she couldn’t even confide in them about the nightmares Cal had been having. She knew if Cal found out she was spreading his business around, he would see it as nothing less than a betrayal. And of course, he would find out, considering Dina couldn’t keep a secret if you gave it to her under
