Page 51 of Fighting for Tawny

Whitcomb chuckled. “So are you. You think I don’t know what kind of fantasies you’re having about Ginger?”

Stoltz hung up on him. Whitcomb grinned at how easy it was to rattle the warden.

In his apartment, Whitcomb popped open a can of beer and settled at his table for two with his laptop. He cracked his neck and rubbed his palms together in anticipation of creating magic by moving his pot of gold to the end of another rainbow. He opened an account at a bank in Sweden with twenty-thousand dollars he transferred from savings, then made a second transaction that emptied his current balance at the Cayman National Bank. When he saw his treasure populate his new account, he promptly closed the old one. The great thing about online banking was that you didn’t have to explain to a nosy employee the reason for your decision to close an account or transfer money. Smooth and easy. No questions asked.

Whitcomb reached for his phone and ordered Chinese food. After it arrived, he opened another beer and sat at the table. As he ate, he contemplated what he’d been doing, the risks he’d been taking, and concluded the next run would be his last.

He didn’t like or trust Cohen, Stoltz, and Jones, and running drugs for a nameless organization without face-to-face contact bothered him. His cache would last him the rest of his life, especially if he invested a portion of it. Besides, the situation was becoming far too complicated and risky. Stoltz might dismiss Cameron McAdams, but Whitcomb viewed him as a formidable opponent. As soon as he learned about Joy’s and Precious’ demise, McAdams would bring the full power of his name and authority down upon those responsible. Whitcomb hoped he’d be long gone by then.

He drained the last of his beer and stored the leftover Chinese food in the refrigerator, though it would be rancid by the time he returned to his apartment for the weekend. Whitcomb showered, dressed in a clean uniform, packed a bag, and wondered what firestorm awaited him at the camp—no pun intended.

Quiet prevailed. None of the women were in sight. A guard Whitcomb didn’t recognize stood outside Bunkhouse B.

Oh, shit! Not another one!

Whitcomb climbed from the cab of his truck and approached the unfamiliar guard. “Hey, I’m Carey Whitcomb from CIFW. Who are you?”

“Macintosh. A mutual acquaintance sent me.”

“Okay. And did the dearly parted Gary Colfer know our ‘mutual acquaintance’?”

“No.”

“Any idea who he was?”

“Not at this time.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“The runs start tomorrow.”

“With whom?” Not Ginger. I don’t want to see her broken yet.

“The weakest among them.”

Whitcomb smiled. Perfect.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Twenty-four hours after Joy and Precious were released from Sheriff O’Grady’s custody, the fire chief lifted the Titans’ suspension. They celebrated by throwing a party. Yolanda baked cupcakes, and Moira bought ice cream at a nearby store. She opened a music app on her cell phone, and they danced and indulged themselves with junk food.

But their celebration ended when an emergency call sent them running for their gear. Another dangerous fire, large enough to require two fire stations to respond, had broken out south of Chino Hills and threatened a community. The Titans assisted with evacuating the homeowners and fighting the fire. During the chaos, Barbie and Susan corralled lost and frightened pets and reunited them with their frantic owners.

Several homes caught on fire. Moira and the Titans focused on saving them and rescuing anyone trapped inside. In a two-story home engulfed in flames, Tawny spotted a child’s white face at a window on the second floor. The little girl was crying and pounding on the glass. Without thinking, she rushed into the burning house.

Flames swirled around her. Tawny covered her mouth and nose with a bandana. Smoke stung her eyes, and she could barely see anything. Flames licked at the staircase, and it disintegrated beneath her as she scrambled to reach the second-floor landing. Burning beams fell. She dodged them, but one hit her, and she staggered to maintain her balance. When she reached the bedroom overlooking the street, Tawny had to kick open the door. The child screamed.

“Stay where you are! I’ll come to you!”

The floor caved. Tawny jumped across the gaping hole. She reached the little girl in two strides and knelt before her.

“Hi, I’m Tawny. What’s your name?”

“S…Serena.” She clutched a stuffed bear to her chest.

“Serena. That’s a pretty name. I’m going to take you to your parents. Understand?”

She nodded and wiped her runny nose on the sleeve of her shirt.

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