Forbidden Firefighter

by R. S. Elliot

  “Take a seat,” Hunter said, and he helped me back down into the booth. He called the cafe worker over and requested a glass of water. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Just relax.”

  It was easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one receiving a letter threatening a fate worse than my house burning down. What the hell did that even mean? What was worse than my house burning down? Was someone planning to murder me if I didn’t leave town? It could all be one huge bluff, something to startle me without a legitimate reason.

  Did I want to take the risk?

  The worker appeared with a glass of water, and Hunter held it to my lips.

  “Here,” he said, still kneeling in front of me. “Drink.”

  So I did. I practically inhaled the water straight down my gullet, and yet my throat still felt raw.

  “Thank you.” I managed only a couple of words, then added, “I’m fine. I just need to go home.”

  “I’ll take you,” Hunter said.

  “No. It’s fine.” The last thing I needed was Hunter complicating things even more. Wasn’t it bad enough that I’d already screwed up by kissing him in the first place? Not to mention doing so in plain view of everyone who cared to see. Now, he wanted to take me home? I’d be in confined quarters with him for too long. Certainly longer than I had left to fight in me.

  Especially now with this letter, I had even less reason to hold back. I wanted him to comfort me. I wanted Hunter’s arms around me, holding me, telling me everything was going to be just fine. And in his arms, I would believe every word.

  But out here, in the real world, I knew that wasn’t possible. There were dark forces at work against me, some visible, some known. Though others were quite clearly hidden from view.

  “You think I’m going to let you go home alone after receiving something like this?” he asked. “Not to mention you’re completely shaken.”

  His hand stroked my knee, a motion meant to be calming. However, it had the opposite effect. God, how in hell was I to convince him he couldn’t come home with me when every inch of my body was begging me to take him?

  “I’ll take a cab and pick up my car in the morning,” I said. “I’ve clearly had too much to drink anyway.”

  He closed his eyes, head shaking. “No. I can drive you home in your car if you’d like, or I’ll go with you in the cab. It’s your choice. But, I’m not letting you go home alone.”

  “What about your car?”

  “I walked.”

  There had to be some excuse to keep him from coming with me. If I told him the house was a mess, he’d either expect it after the fire or say he didn’t care. He was clearly concerned. While it should have triggered emotions of love and warmth that he cared so much, all it inspired was dread. Things were spinning out of control. I needed to think of something to push him away.

  “How do I know you’ll be able to handle my car?” I asked, regretting the question instantly.

  His eyes shifted upward, as if thinking about the question in depth. Though the humor in his words told a different story. “I do drive a huge fire truck on occasion, usually at high speeds and usually through a ton of traffic. I think I can handle your….I’m guessing, Mercedes.”

  “Is this really the time for jokes?”

  He flashed that heartwarming smile once again. The one that almost made me forget all the fears assailing me now. “I’m sorry. But we aren’t arguing about this. I’m taking you home.”

  “Fine, but then you leave as soon as we get there,” I said, and rose to my feet. I wobbled to the side, and he took hold of my arm to steady me.

  “I’ll leave as soon as I am sure the house is secure,” he corrected.

  I tugged my arm free from his hold and bent down to collect the remaining pages on the floor. “And what are you going to do? What are your plans if there is someone in the house?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t feel comfortable just dropping you off without checking the house first.” His hands closed around my shoulders, lifting me up to face him. “Lyndsey, please. Will you just let me do this? For my peace of mind.”

  The worry in his clear blue eyes wove their way into my heart, and in that moment, I would have granted him any wish he wanted.

  “Fine.” I nodded. “We can go.”

  We made our way outside to the car. He said nothing about the car actually being a Mercedes. He simply tossed me a sideways glance that was as comedic as it was adorable. I had to admit, it felt nice being taken care of, having someone care about my well-being at all. I missed that. Missed having someone wonder where I was every morning, having someone check in on me.

  That had always been Aly and my grandmother. If they didn’t hear from me, they would check in to see if I was all right. Aly still did that to some extent.

  Now, I could be gone an entire week before anyone even noticed. I’d barely seen my parents since I’d been home, except for their attempts at blackmailing me and the will reading. My cousins definitely wouldn’t check in on me, even if I didn’t show up for work. They would simply fill out the termination paperwork, then merrily email the notice to my parents.

  Everyone would simply assume I’d run off. They’d think nothing of my absence.

  Because that was the person I’d allowed myself to become these past few years—flighty, ever-changing, and unable to stay in one spot for too long.

  At least now, Hunter knew what was going on. If I vanished from sight, he would tell someone. He would care enough to question where I had gone at least.

  “You’re quiet,” he said beside me in the car. “You okay?”

  “Just contemplating the many mysteries of life.”

  He smiled. “Any idea who might have sent the letter?”

  I shrugged. “Your sister for one. She hates me. That whole side of the family does. I didn’t want anything from my grandmother. I would have been happy with the music box.”

  “She’s bitter about the whole house thing,” Hunter explained. “Though I don’t think she’d be capable of sending something like that to you. At least, I don’t think she’d go so far as to set the house on fire.”

  “But you admit now that the fire might not have been my doing?”

  “I never said that.”

  How could he not see it? This letter was as close to a confession as I would get. Whoever set the fire was now threatening my life. “Doesn’t this confirm it? There’s someone out there trying to scare me off. Burning my house didn’t do it. So now they are threatening me.”

  “I hate to tell you, but you almost became a casualty of that house yourself.”

  My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. “Because I ran back into the house.”

  “Because all the fire alarms had been disabled.”

  The weight in my stomach gained another twenty pounds, digging deep until nausea kicked in. I had been so concerned about the house and the music box, I hadn’t had much time to question my own safety. Obviously, my life had been at stake. Though I hadn’t realized how close I’d come to death until this point. “What?”

  “Didn’t you notice?” he asked, sincerely astonished. “What woke you up?”

  I hardly remembered. The crackle of fire, being unable to breath. Those acted as the only signals of danger that night. Is that why I had woken up with such a headache? Was I merely moments away from succumbing to smoke inhalation? “The fire. The smoke?”

  “You didn’t hear the alarms going off, did you?” Hunter half-asked, half stated, already knowing the answer to his question.

  “No. I guess there was so much going on I didn’t even notice.” I stared down at the red envelope in front of me. Had someone actually tried to kill me? “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, as if I shouldn’t be overreacting just yet. As if he hadn’t casually just mentioned my near-death a few seconds ago. “It could mean nothing. Maybe your grandmother just forgot to replace the batteries or got tired of the beeping alarms made when th
ey needed replacing.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her.” My grandmother was almost neurotic when it came to taking care of the house. Which was partially why it was in such perfect condition. “She was usually very cautious.”

  “Then, someone took them apart ahead of time.”

  “You mean someone with access to the house?” He wasn’t saying it, but I knew what he meant. He didn’t want to admit to his sister’s involvement in all of this. What brother would want to think their sibling was capable of such atrocities? Yet, the pieces were falling carefully into place. The only ones with a motive and means to accomplish the task were the two people I had suspected all along.

  “I mean someone,” Hunter said finally. “I’m not saying Vanessa is a saint. I just don’t think she’s capable of almost killing you.”

  “Well who else would it be?” I didn’t even know half the people in town anymore. And those I did know, I hadn’t spoken to in years. With the exception of Flynn, of course.

  “That’s on you,” Hunter said, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Have any other enemies? Jilted lovers to speak of?”

  “Ah, yes, because I am the scourge of all humanity, aren’t I?” I withheld the urge to roll my eyes. Just what had my cousins told him about me? I shouldn’t care as much as I did, and yet, at this moment, it was all I could think about.

  With hovering thoughts like contemplating my near-death and someone threatening me, and Hunter’s opinion of me was all I was concerned with? I needed help.

  You need a man.

  Any other distraction at this point would be welcome. Though how many could a girl have?

  We finally arrived at Hummingbird Hollow. In the dark, the moss tendrils descending over the tree branches looked more like cobwebs and floating phantoms. I’d left two lights on. The one on the front porch and the light in the living room. I hated coming home to an empty house. Especially one as big as my grandmother’s estate. There were too many places for people to hide, too many nooks and crannies left uncovered.

  It was why I spent so much time out of the house and why I chose to eat at the cafe at night, rather than dine in at home.

  We walked toward the door. With each step forward, my feet sank deeper into the earth. I was literally digging in my heels by the time we reached the entrance. If it hadn’t been for Hunter’s arm around my shoulder, guiding me toward the house, I would have never even made it to the front mat.

  “Home, sweet home,” he said. A light chuckle breezed past his lips as I tossed him a teasing scowl. This was not home. Not now. Nor would it ever be again.

  I dug into my pockets and extracted the keys. I hadn’t even finished unlocking the door when we heard it.

  Breaking glass. Or maybe ceramic.

  Either way, someone was already in the house.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hunter

  So, maybe she hadn’t been so crazy after all.

  She claimed from the beginning that someone was out to get her, that someone other than her had started the fire. It sounded like nothing more than the ravings of a distraught young woman witnessing her whole world change in an instant.

  And then, the letter arrived.

  Nothing said creepy quite like a mysterious letter from someone threatening to harm you if you didn’t leave town. What did that even mean? Was she supposed to just physically leave and abandon all ideas of settling down here? Or did that mean selling the house, cutting all ties with everyone she loved, and never returning again?

  And who would even care about that?

  Other than my sister.

  I didn’t want to believe she’d be capable of anything like this. She was ruthless, ambitious, and relentless in her feud against a family she’d only married into. There should have been no reason at all for her to join in on the madness that was Kyle’s family, and yet, the couple suited one another well.

  She didn’t learn it from our father and mother. Both were pillars of the community, simple people who loved a simple life. Perhaps that’s what made her so ambitious. She always wanted more, always felt she deserved more. And strove to attain all she deserved by whatever means necessary.

  But this? Was she really capable of breaking into someone’s house? Setting it on fire? Threatening others?

  I took one step across the threshold, but Lyndsey tugged me back.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “We don’t know if whoever’s in there is dangerous or not. If they have a gun, you can’t just walk in there.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “What else are we going to do?”

  “Call the cops.”

  I didn’t want to do that either. If it was my sister, I wanted to give her the opportunity to explain herself first. If the cops came, there would be no going back from this.

  “Just wait here. It’s fine,” I said, but she yanked back on my arm even tighter.

  “No. I’m coming with you.” Her arm looped tighter around my arm. Her body hugged my side, warm and trembling, despite her sudden burst of bravery.

  We stepped inside, flicking on another light as we passed from room to room. The obvious signs of someone arriving home did little to frighten the intruder. Clattering and clangs of pots, plates, and pans continued from inside the kitchen, located on the opposite end of the house. Whoever broke into the house cared very little about being caught, which generated more cause for concern than the break-in itself.

  “You know this is how people get killed in those old horror movies, right?” Lyndsey said beside me.

  “This isn’t a movie.”

  “You’re right.” She scoffed. “This is real life. We could really die.”

  “We’re not going to die.”

  We rounded the corner into the kitchen and flicked on the light. One pan fell to the ground with a bang that resounded off of the cavernous walls like thunder. Lyndsey jumped, grabbing the nearest object and raising it up above her head. She leaped into a defensive position, while I watched the scene unfold in all its comedic glory.

  The culprit stood on its hind legs. Dark, beady eyes peered back in confusion, though absolutely no remorse, from behind his fuzzy black mask. The whiskers at his long snout twitched, and he hissed in agitation before darting out of the kitchen and up the stairs. His fluffy ringed tail bobbed up and down with each step he took until he vanished into the darkness upstairs.

  I turned to face Lyndsey, still in her warrior pose and wielding what I now realized was a turkey baster.

  “Hmm, maybe not as effective as the lamp or frying pan which were also well within reach,” I said calmly. “Though I suppose you could always blind him with broth.”

  She yanked her arms down to her sides, inspecting the baster as if noticing it for the first time. One shoulder rose upward in a flippant shrug. “Anyone can deal damage with a frying pan. It takes a true artist to incapacitate someone with a turkey baster.”

  I laughed, moving up the stairs to ensure our culprit found his way back outside. “Well, luckily we didn’t have to put that plan into action. It seems your intruder was just a raccoon.”

  She’d closed off all the remaining rooms upstairs, which made it easier to gauge where the animal scampered off to. I didn’t want to have to search every room in this ridiculously large house in order to leave my stamp of approval on it.

  We made our way into the only open room, the one where the fire had taken place. They’d removed what was left of the door in the salvaging process and cleared away as much of the ash as possible. The effects of the fire remained visible in the charred bits of wood still attached to the house, and the meager tarp now acted as a temporary roof.

  “How did he get in?” she asked.

  I lifted a piece of the tarp. It had been secured with some rope and sandbags to keep out the majority of the elements and wildlife. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem to stop one crafty raccoon. It had been a week since the fire. The tarp likely hadn’t been meant as a long-term solution. At least the important repa
irs should have been handled by now.

  “You need to patch up the hole here,” I said, gesturing toward the ceiling. “Any reason why you haven’t?”

  Lyndsey crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes shifting from one end of the room to the other. Silence reigned as her only response until finally she shrugged and added, “It’s a long story. But needless to say, I’m still waiting on my insurance check to come in before I start any actual repairs.”

  “What about your parents?” I asked. “They won’t help you?”

  This time she turned away and started back down the stairwell. “It’s complicated. After the fire, they cut me off until I’m able to prove how responsible I can be.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault.” I followed after her. “Can’t you just show them this letter, and—”

  “They won’t believe me,” she explained, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and peering up at me. “They said no matter what happened, protecting this house was my responsibility. I should be able to protect it from intruders and external forces.”

  Now that didn’t make any sense. How could anyone prepare for something like this? How could she control the actions of other people? “That’s crazy. You’d only had the house for a day.”

  “My parents don’t believe in doing anything halfway.”

  I reached the final step and stopped in front of her. She was tall, though the top of her head only reached the bottom of my chin. Those chocolate eyes peered up at me, so warm and inviting despite the sad story she’d spun. Everything drew me to her, propelled me forward as if by some imaginary thread. The need to comfort her roused within me, though she had already pushed me away once that night.

  A mistake. Isn’t that what she’d called it? Our kiss had been a complete mistake in her mind. Though for me, it was the first thing I’d done right in a long time.

  “What about your inheritance?” I asked, trying to focus on something other than the curve of Lyndsey’s lips and how they tasted. “Vanessa received hers already. Can’t you use some of that money to fix the house up?”