Burned
Burned
Scorching Heat: Book 1
Callie Bardot
Sumner McKenzie, Inc.
Copyright
Published by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.
Ebook Edition
Copyright ©2019 Callie Bardot
All Rights Reserved.
* * *
License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, but it can be lent according to the retailer’s coding. If you would like to give this book to another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
About the Author
A heap of flaming thanks goes to Sandra, Mike, Steve, Justin, and, of course, my rock solid fire-fighting, fire-investigating, heart's on fire sweetie pie for your help in writing the fire scenes in this book. I couldn't have done it without you...at all. Thanks to the station for being here and for giving us a supportive place to serve the community. Thanks to Charity, Rainy, Megan, and Sara for all you do. And, thanks to Ron, just because.
Chapter 1
In the engine bay at Station Forty-Three, located in downtown Singer Springs, Washington, Jackson slammed his bright red locker shut with more strength than he’d intended. Being a firefighter and paramedic was one of the best damn jobs in the universe. But today was one of those few days where it sucked. An entire mountainside home had burned to the ground, the small occupants—two children and their pets—trapped inside while the parents were out who knew where. Any loss of life was difficult to deal with, but losing kids had to be the worst.
He turned, leaned against the metal locker, and rested his head on the smooth surface, allowing his eyelids to slide closed. It shouldn’t have happened. The thought urged all his frustration, grief, and anger to the surface. He pounded the locker with his fists, eliciting a noisy clatter that echoed through the garage.
He longed to put this day behind him and get home to his girlfriend, Blaire. Everything about their six-month-old relationship was as fresh and exciting as the day he’d laid eyes on her at the horse stables on the west side of Singer Springs.
It had started with a blaze; the fire had spread to his soul and continued to burn to this day.
Yes, life with Blaire was perfect…the stuff of fairytale romances…except for one thing—the situation with his brother, Jake, stood in the way like the Great Wall of China.
One of his buddies, Griffin, aka The Grifter, came up beside him and interrupted his daydreaming. “Rough day, huh, Hollerback? When was the last time we got called out to back-to-back fires?”
“Right?” Jackson pushed away from the locker. “And that last one…brutal…having to drag a three-inch hose up the hill. I’d rather be dragging single jacket wildland hoses, any day. I’m beat.”
Griffin shook his head. “No way could we get the engine up that steep, icy driveway. We’d have slid all the way to the highway like we were one giant sled.”
“I know.” A dullness settled into Jackson’s chest. “And the death toll—two kids, two dogs, a cat, even a potbelly pig—trapped in the house to incinerate.”
His eyes moistened with tears.
Griffin scratched his cheek. “Yeah, and something about the story doesn’t make any sense. They left the owner’s twenty-five-year-old brother to watch the kids. But he was nowhere to be found. I haven’t been able to locate him to interview him.”
“What was his name?” Jackson said.
“Let’s see…” Griffin fished a small notebook from his pants pocket. He flipped the scribbled-on pages, then, stabbed one and said, “Here it is. It’s a mouthful. His name is Jovantay Macavelli.”
A sharp stab of anxiety rocketed through Jackson’s belly. Isn’t that the name of Jake’s dealer? The guy’s a total scumbag loser. What the fuck is he doing watching two little kids? His eyes slid toward the exit as he wiped his palm across his pants.
“You know him?”
Jackson’s gaze jumped back to Griffin’s. He cleared his throat. “Do I know him?”
“That’s what I asked you.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed.
“Nah. The name sounds familiar, but…” He rubbed his lips with his thumb and forefinger. The last thing he wanted the department to know was what side of the law his brother was on or the kind of company he kept. “Nope, can’t place it.” He hated to lie, especially to one of his best friends. Beads of sweat popped onto his forehead. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Well,” Griffin said. “If you get any clues, let me know. I’ve got to find that guy.” He huffed out a sigh. “Captain Menendez is already arranging a Critical Incident Stress Debriefing. It will probably be here at the station the day after tomorrow.”
Jackson nodded and cleared his throat. “Maybe we could have saved the kids at least if we had better access.”
“Nah,” Griffin said. “The whole place was torched by the time we got the call. Someone from across the bay saw it through his telescope.”
“No shit?” Jackson said.
“No shit,” Griffin said. “That place was remote as they come.”
“It was that.” Jackson folded his arms over his chest. “That sure was a nice house sitting up on the hill like that. Someone’s dream hideaway along Egg Ranch Road.”
“Yep,” Griffin said, pressing his back to the lockers next to him. “Log cabin and then some.” He raked his hand through his red hair. “Complete with a water feature stretching the length of the property. Now? Nothing but charred wood and ash.” He let out a deep sigh. “There are a lot of nice homes up there tucked into the pockets of the woods. Big money buys big houses on several acre plots along with the promise of isolation.”
“What are your thoughts about what sparked it? You done with your investigation?” Jackson jingled the keys in his pocket, eager to hear more about the fire and then get home to Blaire. He longed to bury himself inside her and forget about burned structures and death tolls.
“Just about. I have to interview a couple more folks, but…” He snorted. “The owner—the kids’ dad—sure seemed twitchy about something. The first thing he said was, ‘it wasn’t my fault, I swear. My brother was watching the house.’ The second thing he said, was, ‘I didn’t light candles or anything.’ I didn’t say a word about candles.”
“Oh, that’s usually a guilt statement,” Jackson said. His lips pressed into a hard line.
“It seems to be. I try to stay impartial, but I also have to stay mindful of what a witness does or does not say.” Gr
iffin gave him a shrewd blue-eyed gaze. “Am I boring you?”
“What? No, not at all.” Jackson squeezed the back of his neck. “Tired is all.”
“And you’ve got your boo waiting for you at home, am I right?” Griffin grinned.
Jackson shrugged. “She lives in the same house as me, as of two weeks ago.” His mind drifted back to the day he met her. He’d parked the rig near the stables to tend to a fire at a ranch across the street. They’d managed to get the fire out in the barn before it had done any serious damage and spread to other structures. He’d been packing the hose, getting ready to depart.
She and her Appaloosa had trotted into his line of sight. She’d approached him to inquire about the fire. He’d zeroed in on her with the desperation of a starving man finally being offered some good food—and not just any food, but the mouth-watering, yes, please, give me more kind. With her petite form, shoulder-length auburn hair, and lilac-colored eyes flecked with dusky blue that lit his insides…he was hooked from the start.
Up until that point, his track record in the romance department had been mostly misses. Women didn’t like it when he wasn’t interested in talking about the past. Somehow, it was easier to let them leave thinking he was hiding something than to revisit his nightmarish childhood. It haunted him enough as it was, both at random and predictable times.
But meeting Blaire had changed everything. She’d been the torch to his existence, shedding light on all those dark places. She made him want to show up and be a better man than he was the day before.
The guys at the station still teased him about the awestruck way he’d looked at her. Apparently, Griffin asked him a question, oh, about eight times, before Jackson had finally regained his senses and answered him.
And, from day one, their sexual chemistry had been off the charts. They found endlessly creative ways to explore their passion.
Like last week, in a canoe at the lake. A smile tugged at Jackson’s lips. We almost tipped the boat over in the middle of Clearfall Lake. But, man, the moment was off the charts hot. Even today, after his messed-up shift, his body stirred at the thought of her. He thanked his lucky stars for the thousandth time to have met her in the first place.
“You’re getting that glazed-eye look again.”
“Huh?” Jackson said, coming out of his memories.
“You. You’re getting that same dazed look you had the day you met her.” Griffin grinned.
Jackson scoffed. “I was not.”
Griffin smirked. “You two are like a couple of teenagers. Go on, get out of here. I’ve got another half day here.”
“I’ll save you some,” Jackson said, grinning.
“What? Some of Blaire?” A huge smile spread across Griffin’s face.
“Hell, no. Some of whatever she’s cooking tonight.” Everyone knew what a fabulous meal Blaire could create.
Griffin laughed, waving him away.
Jackson tromped to his Ford pickup truck, parked in the back. He slid in the cab and headed for his home, which sat across the street from a beach at the edge of Singer Springs.
As he drove, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty around him—the kind those two kids would never get to witness again. His heart twisted into a knot of regret. If there was anything—anything at all—he could’ve done to save those kids, he would’ve done it. But Griffin told it true—the house and its occupants were already deceased by the time they’d arrived. His cheeks puffed with air, and he slowly let it out.
And, Macavelli somehow involved…which makes me wonder what my brother was up to today. He shook those thoughts free from his head. The trees…Take in the trees…Stay in the moment.
Blaire often gushed about the “breathtaking beauty around us,” followed up with statements like, “we’re so lucky to live here.”
And, as his eyes swept his surroundings, he had to admit it—Singer Springs looked like one of those picture-perfect postcard regions. The early evening sky held tinges of warm color, heralding a spectacular sunset, dancing along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The looming Sun-a-Duc mountains provided a stunning backdrop. And the town itself was an eclectic blend of buildings from the 1800s interspersed with modern-day dwellings and businesses. Tourists flocked to the region every summer.
When he pulled his truck into the driveway of their small home overlooking the Strait, his heart ignited, and a grin split his face. He parked his beast of a truck, killed the motor, and then stepped out onto the gravel. The same feeling of excitement filled his belly every time he came home.
He opened the front door, and immediately his mouth watered. The smell of garlic, basil, and tomato sauce grabbed at his insides and tugged.
He looked around for his two Border Collies, Midget, and Maxine. His forehead furrowed.
Huh.
Usually, the dogs were all over him before his boots struck the floor.
The clatter of pans alerted him to Blaire’s whereabouts. He tossed his keys in the basket on the stand underneath the wood-framed mirror and made his way toward the kitchen.
Blaire stood with her back to him, clad in a loose-fitting garment he’d never seen before. It looked like something soft and silky, in shades of blue and green. It draped along her body, undulating as she reached for a jar of spices off the rack in front of her.
“Smells fantastic in here,” he said, striding through the doorway. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of a chair.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, stirring whatever sauce she’d made in a pot on the stove.
Her shoulders hunched over her cooking. She didn’t turn around, which seemed odd. Typically, they greeted one another with a kiss at the door or something a bit more enthusiastic.
He pulled up short before coming up behind her and squeezing her shoulders. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to the dogs?”
His stomach clenched.
Why isn’t she looking at me?
“Why would you say that?” She stirred faster.
“Because neither you nor the dogs are greeting me the way we usually greet one another.” Not sure what to do with his hands, he stood stiffly, staring at the yellow ceramic jar full of wooden cooking utensils sitting next to her.
“Why should we do everything the same?”
“No reason,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “As long as you’re okay and the dogs are somewhere safe.”
Slowly, she set down the wooden spoon. Red sauce spilled onto the white stove top. She pressed her hands against the edge of the stove and took a deep breath. Then, she flicked off the burner.
Jackson’s breath caught in his throat. “Blaire, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
“You wondered if I’m okay,” she said, still not turning around.
“Yes. I feel like you’re about to drop a bomb on me and I’ve already had the day from hell.”
“Oh, I’m going to drop a bomb, all right.” As practiced as a pole dancer, she turned to face him, letting her garment fall from her shoulders. “Ka-boom!”
Clad in the sexiest blue lingerie he’d ever seen; she bit her lip to keep from smiling.
“Oh, you wicked little witch,” he said, his cock already twitching in his trousers.
“I didn’t think I could pull it off,” she said, a laugh escaping her throat. “I was dying while I stirred, trying hard not to laugh. Midget and Maxine are going to be pissed. I kenneled them in the backyard.”
“They’ll live. Come here,” Jackson said, stepping toward Blaire.
Right as his arms wrapped around her, his phone began playing Imagine Dragon’s Radioactive from the pocket of his coat. He ignored it, hooking her bra straps with his forefingers. Next, he urged the straps down her soft upper arms. His palms slid up, and he caressed her shoulders.
The silky smoothness of her skin stirred him into “ready to rock and roll” territory.
“You gave me quite a scare there,” he murmured into her ear as the phone ceased its singing.<
br />
“I’m sorry. I listened to dispatch on your spare radio all day. I knew you had a rough day, so I prepared to make it all better.” She began to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers found their way under the fabric, and she let her long nails trail seductively across his muscles.
He stroked her back and then kneaded her fine ass.
She undulated against his one hell of an erection that waited to be released from the confines of his jeans.
“Someone’s hard.” Stretching on her tiptoes, she kissed a trail along his neck, his collarbone, and his chest.
“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He hefted her in his arms and stepped toward the table where he gently set her on the polished surface. Dropping his head, his lips met hers in a scorching kiss.
God, she feels good. She knows just the right thing to do to make me forget about my day.
He slid his tongue into her mouth to glide against hers, and they vied for dominance of the kiss.
She moaned, the sound vibrating into him. Her hand reached for his pants and began to unzip him.
His phone interrupted them again.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered and pulled out his phone. “One sec, I’ve got to see whose pants are on fire besides mine.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, yanking down the zipper. She tugged his cock free and began to play.
He slid the connect button on. “O’Halloran here,” he snapped.