“Loving you is easy. Life makes everything else so complicated.”
Once again they lay on the sofa, Paul’s hand in his hair. The movie finished, and Paul took his empty glass of wine and went to the kitchen. Outside, Cliff heard the screech of tires on the street and music blaring; then it faded. Travis on his way to God knows where, he thought.
Paul returned with refills for them both. “Want to catch the news?”
Cliff sipped his wine. “Sure.”
Paul flicked the remote, and while waiting for the eleven o’clock news to come on, they watched the second half of a crime show.
Paul rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the police work on the show. “Look at that.” He gestured in disgust. “They arrest the guy, and in two days he’s at trial. What a crock of shit.”
Cliff smothered a grin. Every time they saw any show or movie with police, Paul critiqued it to death.
The show finally ended, and the news came on. When the reporter did a recap of the Main Street break-ins and claimed the business owners were growing restless at the lack of progress, Paul huffed out his displeasure. “What the hell do they know about what we’re doing?”
Hoping to distract him, Cliff kissed his neck, but Paul was in grump mode.
The next story was about the local garden club’s fundraising and the Thornwood Park minor league baseball team winning their fifth game in a row.
Paul grunted. “Good coaching. Brett Stone is the best at this level.” He took a hit from his glass of whiskey and set it down. “Let’s watch the weather, then go to bed.”
Cliff smiled, his body responding to that now familiar gleam in Paul’s eyes. “The weather? Really? I’m ready when you are.”
Paul chuckled and reached for him.
“We interrupt with a breaking story. There’s been an explosion at the Wild Orchid Club in downtown Thornwood Park. Details are still emerging, and police and the fire department are heading to the scene. Stay tuned to WTWP for the latest.”
Dread shot through Cliff, and he clutched Paul’s arm. “Ryan was going there tonight. He and Shelby were on a date.”
Paul pulled out his phone and called Rob. “Did you hear about the Wild Orchid?” He listened. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”
Anxiously watching Paul’s face, Cliff couldn’t shake off the impending sense of doom. The television droned on, but he rose from the couch to follow Paul to the bedroom and sat on the bed, watching him dress, then retrieve his gun and shield from the lockbox he kept them in.
Ryan. I need to call Ryan.
His fingers fumbled as he pulled out his phone and hit Speed Dial. Helpless, he sat and listened to it go to voice mail. “Ry, It’s me. Call me back and let me know if you’re okay.”
Paul met his eyes, his expression dark and unreadable. “Nothing?”
Cliff shook his head. “No. Went to voice mail.”
Paul gave him a swift kiss. “Keep trying. I’m going over there. Rob is meeting me.”
Cliff trailed Paul as he left the bedroom and crossed the kitchen to grab his house keys, car keys, and wallet from the bowl on the counter. “I know you won’t be able to call me while you’re there, but please…” His voice caught. “If you hear anything…”
Paul hugged him tight for a moment. “I’ll do what I can.”
Cliff stood at the door and watched Paul drive away. He closed the door behind him and leaned on it, praying for everyone’s safety.
Chapter Seven
The smell of smoke met his nose before he reached downtown.
Paul’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he took the turn onto Main Street to see flames flaring out of the front windows of the building that housed the Wild Orchid. Paul recalled the bar/restaurant in the front and a large dance floor in the rear. Anyone who wanted to do the most damage would wait until later in the evening, like now, then set fires in the front to make an exit almost impossible.
He swung into a parking space and raced out of the car to the Wild Orchid, where police cars waited with their lights on and fire trucks were spraying water inside. Rob lived somewhat closer, and Paul picked out his partner, already talking to the patrol cops.
“What’ve we got?”
A young officer Paul vaguely recognized nodded to him. “Name’s Badillo, Detective. I was just telling your partner we got a call about windows breaking and several explosions. Fire department was called at 11:10 p.m.”
Paul checked his watch. It was eleven thirty. He must’ve been speeding with the devil at his heels to make it so quickly. “Fire department can’t get it under control?”
“Looks like fires are popping up inside. Might be the alcohol catching fire,” Innis, the other officer, replied.
“Shit,” he swore. “The place is packed, I bet. Hopefully people get out through the back door.”
He and Rob approached the Wild Orchid but couldn’t get closer than the middle of the now closed-off street. Paul’s heart kicked up a few notches when he saw several people being led around from the alley. He searched their faces, but none were Ryan or Shelby.
Before Paul had a chance to tell Rob that someone he knew might possibly be inside, an explosion rocked the building, sending them on their heels. Screams from inside reached their ears, and for a moment Paul stood by helplessly.
Then he and Rob ran up to the fire chief, who was directing his crew. “Chief, Detectives Monroe and Gormley. What’s the situation? One of your men, Ryan Callahan, is inside.”
“Shit.” He pulled out his radio. “Code red. Code red. Firefighter inside the Wild Orchid. Ryan Callahan, Firehouse Two is inside the Wild Orchid. Repeat. Callahan is inside the Wild Orchid.” He took off his helmet and wiped his brow. “Thanks, Detectives. We don’t know yet, but I’m hoping my guys will be out of there soon.”
As they spoke, another burst of flames shot up from the roof, which was quickly doused with a forceful spray of water from the fire hoses. The acrid smell of smoke and ash and wet blanketed the area in a foggy haze as they watched the firemen in protective gear rush inside.
Almost dancing on his toes, Paul waited with Rob as the fire department did their job, and they saw men being helped out, choking and crying with fear. Paul searched the soot-stained faces but didn’t see Ryan. Perhaps Cliff had been wrong.
A voice came over the chief’s radio. “Chief, we need medics ready.”
Paramedics who’d been waiting sprang into action and ran to the front of the now ruined, still-smoking storefront. Firemen carried out one man with a mask over his face, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. Another, hopping on one leg, had his arm slung around a tall, burly man Paul recognized as a bouncer.
One fireman stood at the doorway and removed his mask. “Medic. This way with a stretcher. Follow me.”
Anxious to see what was happening, Paul and Rob walked closer, even though their eyes stung from the smoke still billowing from the building. They stood out of the way of the paramedics bringing out a man on a stretcher. Two men followed in its wake, and Paul’s heart leaped.
“Ryan,” he called out. “Over here.”
Cliff’s best friend met his gaze, and Paul had never seen a look of such abject fear on anyone. Ryan ran over to where he and Rob stood, and Paul grabbed him, smoke, water and all, and gave him a hug.