by Cynthia Eden
“I just didn’t like the idea of someone hurting you. I don’t like the idea. I never want you hurt. Not ever.” His hand lifted, and his fingers pressed to her cheek. A soft caress. “So when you told me about that jerk, my first instinct was to kick his ass.”
Confession…she’d already known about Geneva Ruby. It appeared that Geneva’s father had sent his daughter out of the country recently. At least, that was what the plane tickets they’d found indicated. Geneva had been sent to Rome so she could hide from the media. Hiding, when she’d once sought out the paparazzi.
Wilde Securities was working to confirm her location, but, no, Geneva didn’t seem like the current target they were after in Bran’s case.
But when I think about her coming after Bran with a knife…don’t I want to kick her ass? Perhaps, Julia realized, she and Bran weren’t so very different.
“My control isn’t always what it should be.” His hand fell away. “I’m not some nice gentlemen. Hell, I’ll never be one of the good guys. Those decent guys that you think are so sexy.”
Yes, she had said that. She did think that. Yet hadn’t she once thought that her ex, Daniel, had been a good guy?
“I’m a bastard. I’m demanding. I’m cold. I’m reckless. I live life at ninety miles an hour, and I know I need to slow the hell down.” His gaze never left hers. “That’s the thing, you see, I never thought about slowing down. Not until I opened my door and saw you standing there.”
“Bran…” She could only shake her head. “I don’t know what this is.” This. The thing between them. The wild way that he made her feel. She should be keeping distance between them, but instead, she wanted to get closer and closer. To feel the fire even though she—above everyone else—knew how badly it could burn.
“It’s us,” he said simply. “It’s me wanting you. Me trying to figure out how to be the man you deserve because I swear, I want to be better. For you.” He gave a brisk nod. “That’s all I wanted to say. I, uh, I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He turned on his heel.
She reached out and her fingers touched his shoulder. “I wasn’t asleep.”
Bran glanced back at her. “No?”
“No.”
***
Cole scraped a hand over his jaw as he slapped his laptop case closed. It was way past time to call it a day. Julia had texted him a few minutes ago, told him that the target was in and safe for the night. He might as well get some rest because who knew what kind of shit show the next day would bring.
Geneva Ruby. He’d been working with other agents to track her for most of the evening. Her dad apparently had more money than God, but the guy had bought his daughter first class plane tickets to Rome instead of letting her use one of his many private jets. That didn’t sit right for Cole—or for the others at Wilde Securities. To him, it seemed like Geneva’s rich dad was trying to create a paper trail for his daughter. A fake trail.
Yet Geneva had reportedly been seen at the airport in Rome. A lone paparazzi had snapped a quick pic of her as she loaded into a waiting limo.
Or at least, someone who looked like her had been photographed getting into the limo.
Cole’s eyes were starting to cross. Doing tech work and research intel gathering wasn’t his favorite part of the gig. He liked to be out in the action. Liked to feel the adrenaline spike of danger.
Liked to know where the trouble was coming from.
Only there was no trouble that night. And maybe that was a good thing.
He shut off the lights. Headed upstairs. Stripped as he entered his bedroom.
He’d just climbed into bed when the smoke alarm went off. The loud, piercing shriek startled him. What in the hell?
Cole lunged out of the bed and paused only long enough to haul on a pair of jeans before he rushed onto the landing. He peered below. His nostrils flared as he pulled in the scent of smoke. What was on fire? Everything had been fine just moments before. He raced down the stairs and—
A hand reached out. Grabbed his ankle. Yanked.
Cole went tumbling forward in the dark. He slammed hard into the stairs. Once. Twice. Shit. His bad knee took the impact hard as he crashed a third and final time.
The smoke thickened as he sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, and Cole could’ve sworn that he heard a woman’s laughter.
***
Bran’s hands wrapped around Julia when her body pressed to his. “Baby?” He was trying like hell to do the right thing and be the gentleman that she needed.
But her tongue slid over the edge of his bottom lip. She gave a sexy moan in the back of her throat, and when she rubbed her hot little body against his…
Screw good intentions.
He lifted her up against him, holding her easily. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands were running through his hair, and her mouth was wild on his.
His cock shoved hard against the too tight front of his jeans as he carried her back toward the bed. He wanted her. Wanted to be buried so deep in her that he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d had her, yes, but he wanted more. So much more.
Over and over. A million times with her might not be enough.
He lowered her onto the bed. Her hands shoved up his t-shirt, and he loved the scrape of her nails over his chest. He tossed the shirt aside. Stared down at her. She wore a thin camisole top and a sexy pair of cotton shorts. Both would be going soon. Both would be completely vanishing.
He lowered his head. Through that thin camisole, he licked her nipple. She shuddered against him, and her hips slammed up to meet his. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking the fabric, sucking her. His hand slid between them, and he stroked her through the thin cotton of her shorts. He swore he could feel her heat already.
“You are torturing me!” Her body trembled beneath him. “Get rid of the cami! And these shorts have got to go!”
God, he loved her honesty. Loved the way she told him exactly what she wanted and needed.
I could love her.
The thought blasted through his mind as he lifted up to stare at her, and for a moment, he couldn’t move. He’d just met her. He didn’t love her. He wanted her like crazy, wanted her more than he could remember hungering for anyone else, but love?
No, he didn’t even believe in love.
Did he?
Her hand trailed over his chest.
His whole body jerked for her.
He started to lower his head once more, because he needed her mouth. He freaking loved the way she tasted—
Fire.
Bran blinked.
“What did you say?” Julia asked him, voice shaking a little.
His head whipped up. He stared through the large window in her bedroom and out at the darkness that stretched beyond his cabin—only it was a darkness punctuated by stretching, heaving flames in the distance. “Fire!”
Her head twisted. She stared and then she shoved at him. “Cole!” Fear quaked in her voice.
Bran hopped off the bed and yanked on his t-shirt. Yes, yes, that had to be Cole’s place. She was—
“Call 911! Get a fire truck and an ambulance out here!” Julia grabbed for her shoes, and then she was running for the door.
He stood there a moment, frozen, until he heard the thunder of her steps in the hallway.
Wait. What. The. Hell? “Julia!” Bran roared her name as he gave chase.
He caught her at the front door. He grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to help Cole!” Julia shouted at him. She’d grabbed her bag and phone. He saw that she gripped the phone in her right hand.
“We’re going to help him,” Bran threw back. And she sure as shit wasn’t going into a fire.
He grabbed his phone and called 911. When the operator answered, he barked out the location and situation as fast as he could. As he hurried to explain things to the 911 dispatcher, Bran saw Julia send out a frantic text to someone, and then she was rushing into the nig
ht. He was right behind her.
They jumped into the new SUV, and he floored it to get them over to Cole’s cabin. His heart was racing because those flames were so bright. They lit up the whole night sky. The closer they got to Cole’s cabin, the worse the fire raged.
“He’s okay,” Julia said, and her voice was shaking. “I’m sure he’s outside. He’s okay.”
They spun the corner. Hit the graveled drive that would take them toward the cabin, and as the SUV’s engine growled and hurtled them forward, Bran was very much not sure that Cole Vincent was okay.
The trees fell away. The other cabin came into perfect view. And the fire was every-freaking-where. Eating up the exterior of the building. Swirling on the sides of the cabin. Glass appeared to have shattered from some of the upper windows. Smoke billowed in a thick, dark layer.
Shit. If he’s in that cabin, the guy is not okay.
“Stop here!” Julia called out. “You can’t get too close to the fire.”
He slammed on the brakes. The SUV jolted.
Julia’s left hand flew out and curled around his wrist. “You have to stay in the vehicle.”
“What?”
“I don’t see him. I have to search the perimeter, and if he’s inside, then I have to get Cole out.”
Had the woman gone freaking insane? “You’re not going in there.” Over my cold, dead body. No way would he let her rush into flames.
“I am going in. You’re staying here.”
“Wherever you’re heading, I’m going to be right at your side. Every step of the way. And I’m going to make damn sure that you’re not racing into the fire—”
She surged forward and kissed him. Her lips pressed hard to his, and her kiss caught him off-guard. For a moment, he was stunned, lost, and—
And then something clicked around his wrist. Something cold and metal.
He jerked back from her. Bran’s gaze automatically flew down to his right wrist. A wrist that was now handcuffed to the steering wheel. Handcuffed. “Uh…Julia? This isn’t the time for a bondage fantasy.”
“You have to stay in the car.”
He yanked at the handcuff. “This shit isn’t funny.” Why the hell had she been carrying a pair of handcuffs in that black bag of hers?
“No, it’s not funny.” She shoved open her door. Jumped out. “It could be a trap, and I can’t have you walking into the fire. This inferno—Jesus, it could be a trap to lure you out, and I can’t have that. Lock the doors, understand? Lock the doors and stay here until I come back.”
She’d handcuffed him. “Julia?” This was wrong. Everything was wrong.
Julia swiped at her cheek, as if brushing away a tear. “I can’t leave Cole in the fire. He’s my partner. I won’t leave a partner in the fire again.”
She wasn’t making sense to him. Partner? No, no, she didn’t even know Cole. They’d just met—
He stared at her face as the flames lit the scene. He said her name again, but this time, the one word felt hollow. “Julia?” He felt hollow as he gazed at her.
She pulled a gun out of her black bag. “Keep this, in case you need it.”
She put the gun on the passenger seat before she whirled away. Julia slammed the door shut, and then she went toward the fire.
No, fucking no. “Julia!” Bran roared her name. He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, sending long, desperate blares into the night. But Julia didn’t stop. She ran away from him. She ran away from him—and straight toward the burning cabin.
Terror clawed at his insides, shredding him. Bran yanked and yanked at the handcuff. It cut into his wrist, it bit deep, but the thing wouldn’t give. It wouldn’t break. He pounded at the steering wheel. He shifted his body, kicking and twisting as he tried to knock loose that fucking steering wheel, but he couldn’t get free.
He rolled down his window. “Julia! Come back to me! Julia!”
But he couldn’t even see her any longer. He couldn’t see anything but the fire, and he could feel the heat pressing hard against his skin.
Chapter Twelve
She hadn’t faced a fire in over two years. And the last time she’d rushed into an engulfed home, her partner and lover hadn’t come back out with her.
He’d also been the bastard who’d set the fire. Who’d tried to kill her.
The memories were there, pushing at Julia’s mind as she performed a frantic 360 walk around—hell, run around—the cabin. The flames appeared to be strongest upstairs, and she didn’t see any sign of Cole outside. His truck was there. She’d tried getting him on the phone, but had received no response.
Fear tightened her muscles. Adrenaline poured through her blood. She found the best entrance to use for the cabin—the back door on the rear deck, and Julia rushed to it.
Try before you pry. The old firefighting advice whispered through her mind. A touch of the door told her it wasn’t too hot, not yet. The fire was mostly in the front of the house, upstairs, eating at the wood. The dark brown smoke was proof that the wooden structure was burning hard and fast, but luckily, she hadn’t seen any black smoke yet. The black smoke would tell her the fire was about to flashover, or, in other words…Hello, hell.
The door opened easily. Unlocked. A bad sign because she knew Cole wouldn’t leave the door unlocked. She yanked the door shut behind her as fast as she could, knowing that she’d just introduced more oxygen to the blaze and needing to stop that inside flow before it fed the fire even more. “Cole!” She ducked, trying to stay low as she searched the house. Every room she entered she yanked the door shut when she finished searching it. The shut doors kept the oxygen levels intact and let her know where the hell she’d already been. Because as the smoke thickened and the flames crackled…
It’s getting harder to see.
Another room. Empty. But…
A quilt was there, hanging on the edge of a chair. She grabbed the quilt on instinct. It could provide protection for her later or come in damn handy in a rescue situation.
The pounding of her heart filled her ears. “Cole!”
Nothing. Only the crackling fire. She rushed forward. The smoke was getting ever thicker and she went low, trying to make it toward the stairs. God, with those flames on the level above her…if Cole was up there…
He’s dead.
But as she approached the stairs, her foot connected with something soft, and she caught the sound of a low groan.
She immediately dropped right there. “Cole?” Her hands flew over him. His chest moved beneath her fingers. But when she touched his face, she felt the wet warmth of his blood. She shook him, but Cole didn’t respond. Didn’t stir at all.
The guy had over a hundred pounds on her. He was pure freaking steel.
But she’d trained for this. When she’d been a firefighter, she’d hauled out men twice her size and never hesitated. She sure as hell wasn’t going to hesitate when her friend needed her.
She rolled Cole onto his side. Julia shoved the quilt under him as best she could while she held her knee in the middle of his back to keep his body in position. Stay with me, Cole. Stay with me. Julia had no idea how bad his injuries were, she just knew she had to get him out of the house. She prayed he didn’t have any spinal injuries that she was making worse. There just wasn’t an option for her. She had to get him out now.
For a moment, past and present blurred.
I can’t get out. I can’t find the door. The smoke is too thick. I can’t breathe. I can’t—
No. No. She was in control. Sweat coated her skin, and every breath tasted of smoke.
Julia moved her knee, letting Cole slide back down, and then she immediately jumped over him, pushed him onto his other side, and yanked the quilt the rest of the way beneath him.
You aren’t going to get out. You’re going to die in here, sweetheart. I’ll grieve and tell the world I tried to save you.
His whisper was in her mind. Daniel’s whisper. The last thing he’d said to her before he tried to leave her to th
e flames.
She hadn’t been in the mood to be left.
Julia hurried toward Cole’s head. She grabbed fistfuls of the quilt.
“G-go…” A croak from Cole. “L-leave…”
She wasn’t leaving him. They were both getting out of there.
Her body heaved back as she gripped the quilt, and Julia began pulling Cole across the floor.
***
Blood poured from Bran’s right wrist. He couldn’t get the sonofabitch cuff off. Julia had been gone too long. If she was in that cabin, if she was burning in there while he sat his ass in the SUV…no, no, not happening.
Bran struggled harder. He kept kicking at the steering wheel. Or trying to kick. Because of the angle he was at, Bran couldn’t get much traction. The driver’s side window was still down, and he yelled for her again. “Julia!” He’d yelled over and over even as the terror threatened to consume him.
Julia. In the fire. Julia. Dead. “Julia!”
Above the crackle of the flames, he heard footsteps rushing toward him. Not just one person, though. Sounded like a group. He remembered what Julia had said about the fire being a trap, and he grabbed for the gun with his left hand. Bran brought it up and around as—
“Bran?”
A flashlight hit him in the face even as Bran’s hand tightened on the gun.
“Jesus, man, don’t shoot. It’s me, Rick.”
Rick? What in the name of heaven and hell was his alarm installer doing there?
But the bright light finally got out of Bran’s eyes, and after a moment of frantic blinking, he realized that Rick definitely wasn’t alone. At least three other guys were with him, all huddled close.
“Where is Julia? And Cole?” Rick snapped.
Wait, how did Rick even know about Cole?
“Where is she, Bran?” Rick demanded. “Fuck me, don’t say Jules went into the fire. Don’t fucking tell me—”
“Get me out of these god-damn cuffs,” Bran snarled. “She cuffed me, and she ran, and, yes, I’m going to fucking tell you that she’s in the fire, and I’m going in after her as soon as you get me out of these cuffs!” A million things weren’t making sense to him. But he didn’t care about those things in that instant. He only cared about Julia. Julia was in the cabin. He had to get to Julia.