I rip open the butter and shove my hand inside, scooping massive chunks before reaching for Ryan. “It’s going to be cold,” I warn her before slathering it all over her like a Thanksgiving turkey.
She laughs as my fingers slide over her neck, unintentionally tickling her. I add a little butter to the metal poles for good measure before wiping my hand off on my jeans and moving in behind her. “Mommy’s going to try and pull,” I tell her, leaving out the part where I hope she pops straight out, unlike how she did during her birth.
Actually, this is probably a little more similar if you consider the head protruding from the narrow opening.
I grab her head and do my best to be gentle. Only, it’s not working, and I fear that pulling too hard could scare her, or worse, hurt her. Ryan is so little, and for her age, she could probably be a little meatier, but she’s perfectly healthy. That doesn’t stop me from freaking out about her neck being trapped between two metal poles, though.
I release her before I do any damage and try round two by squirting oil all over her like a summer barbeque. Shit, I must be hungry. First, it’s turkeys and now a freaking barbeque. I guess that settles the question of what's for dinner. That’s if we make it to dinner.
The butter fails, as does the oil. I'm not even surprised when the soap doesn't work either. “How did you get yourself in there, Ryan?” I ask as I step beside the front door and peek in to see Coby now slathered head to toe in peanut butter.
I reach in and grab my phone off the entryway table as Ryan replies with a shrug of her shoulder. “I just … did.”
Helpful. Very helpful.
“I think mommy needs to call for help. What do you think?” I ask her as I hash in 911 and hit call.
Ryan nods her little head, still holding onto the poles beside her as the call picks up. “911. What’s your emergency?”CHAPTER 4BULL“Wait. What did you say?” I chuckle as I haul myself up into Big Red, my favorite fire truck out of the six here. I mean, they’re all exactly the same, but this one just feels … like mine. There’s something homey about it. “Did I hear that right? A kid has her head stuck in a railing?”
“Yep. That’s the story,” Chief grins, looking across at me as he slams the driver’s door of Big Red and fires her up while the guys pile in the back. “Where are we headed?”
I double-check our instructions. Saying the wrong thing right now isn’t exactly productive, and quite honestly, would be bad form on my part. “Ahhh … Eastville Street,” I tell him as he pushes the button for the sirens and peels out of the station.
“I know the one,” Chief tells me, but I search the directions anyway despite the fact that each of us knows every road of this town like the back of our hands.
We make a point to be the best. In fact, we are the fucking best. There’s no doubt in my mind.
I point out where to go and take in Chief’s little grunts of acknowledgment as Jet goes on and on about the girl he was screwing last night. Chief and I have pretty much zoned out of the conversation, but Ax is more than willing to take in all Jet’s dirty little stories.
Jet isn’t exactly … vanilla. He’s a special kind of breed, and it’s going to take a special woman to bring him to his knees.
Chief pulls onto Eastville Street, and I double-check instructions as he carries on. “Number forty-one,” I tell him, taking in the old, huge houses that surround us. It’s one of the more sought-after areas in town. Each property is huge, well maintained, and it’s been said that the people living around here keep to their own damn business. Fucking perfect if you ask me. “Dispatch said it’s Old Man Jackson’s house with the white picket fence around the yard.”
“Yep,” Chief says, nodding ahead. “See it.”
As he gets closer to the property, a woman walks out to wave us down, looking absolutely terrified but putting on a good show for the baby she holds on her hip.
I hardly look at the woman as Chief pulls the truck to a stop outside her home. I start unbuckling and glance over to the house, trying to work out where the hell this kid is that’s stuck in a railing.
I see the blonde head almost immediately and start making a mental list of all the things we’ll need to free the poor kid.
I swing my door open and jump down from the truck. Chief heads for the mother, and I go for the kid. I let myself through the little gate after working out the damn baby lock, and let me tell you, that shit ain’t easy.