Page 83 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“Nope. Just that Fred’s fans are going bananas.”

As they drove, Rachel’s father called in with a report. “They’re treating him for some abrasions and a head wound. They were worried about a concussion, but he seems to be fine.”

For once, she didn’t mind him using his computer superpowers. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t thank me. Maybe you should worry about the grenade you just detonated smack in the middle of your life. I’m already getting calls. And I ought to fire Marsden.”

Rachel hung up. She didn’t have room in her mind for that right now. She had to get to Fred.

Good Samaritan Hospital swarmed with visitors and thickets of camera equipment. Marsden shouldered through the crowd as she clung to the back of his jacket. At the reception desk, she hit a snag.

“No, I’m not family, but he was working for me,” she explained to the charge nurse. “He was injured because of me. I need to see him.”

“Family only.” The nurse waved her away. “And don’t even try the long-lost sister act. We’ve had three girls try that already.”

“What about … but my name is … Rachel Kessler,” she said. She’d never tried to use her name to get special treatment before, but now that she’d gone public, why not reap the benefits? Turned out, there was no benefit. The nurse didn’t even blink.

“You’re welcome to wait in those chairs over there.”

Just then a dark-haired, frantic girl came flying through the big double doors of the ER. “Where’s my brother?” She was gasping for breath. “Frederick Breen. He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

“Let me guess. Long-lost sister?” said the much-too-cynical nurse.

“What? No. I mean, yes. I’m Lizzie Breen. The rest of my family’s right behind me.”

Rachel couldn’t help it. She stared at the girl so intently she probably verged on rudeness. Lizzie’s long dark hair swung behind her in a ponytail, her lively dark eyes brimming with fear.

“He’s okay,” Rachel told her. “Head wound but no concussion. Some abrasions.”

The charge nurse gave her a hard look. “Who told you that?”

But Lizzie Breen ignored the nurse and grabbed Rachel by the arm. “Are you the girl?”

“What?”

“The girl who’s been making him crazy. He won’t give us your name but we’ve all been speculating.”

Rachel shook her head, bewildered. “He’s been working for me. He was protecting me when he got kidnapped. Those men would have taken me if he hadn’t stopped them. I’d really like to see him.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“Well, come with us, then.”

Lizzie clamped a hand onto her wrist and swept her into a hurricane of rushing, chattering Breens. Besides Lizzie, the group included an older couple and two tough-looking younger men with buzz cuts; they must be two of the military brothers. Rachel was carried along with them like driftwood on a current. She landed next to a bed on which sat Fred, his head bandaged, a scowl on his face. He looked wonderful to her, although the bruise on his jaw made her want to cry.

When he saw her, light blazed in his weary eyes. And then something else. Maybe … wariness?

“Hi Fred,” she said softly. “How are you—” But she didn’t get a chance to finish the question as his family all burst out talking at once.

“I had palpitations when I saw the news, I swear I did!” his mother cried.

“We were already planning a rescue mission,” said one of his brothers. “You beat us to it.”

“Just had to be the hero, didn’t you? When did you become such a camera hog?” asked the other brother.

“Yeah, I hear they’re making a movie. Zero Dark Salad,” said the first. “Get it? Kale, salad?”

Fred’s injured face turned a mottled shade of mauve. Rachel felt the urge to chase his brothers out, and wondered just how far her rusty Krav Maga skills would go.

“Leave him alone, Jack, you’re going to give him a real concussion with all that noise,” said his father.

“Real concussion? What’s not real about his concussion?” His mother ran a protective hand Fred’s bandaged head.

“I don’t—” Fred tried to speak, but didn’t get far.

“He doesn’t have a concussion,” said his father. “That’s the whole point.”

Fred’s mother barreled onward, ignoring her husband. She clutched Fred’s hand, and drew one of her other sons against her side. “Do you realize that we have four out of five kids here at this moment? And all it took was a kidnapping to make it happen.”

The men laughed, the deep chuckles echoing off the medical equipment. Fred smiled gingerly, then winced.

Lizzie tugged at Rachel’s arm and whispered in her ear. “The Breen family has a very weird sense of humor, generally. That’s how we deal with deployments and fires and so forth.”

“Are you in the military too?”

“No, I’m more in Fred’s line. I just finished EMT training, and now I’m working on my pilot’s license. Mom, what are you doing?” Lizzie was yanked forward, into the circle of testosterone surrounding Fred’s bed.

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