by Elle James
Hellfire, Texas
Hellfire Series Book #1
Elle James
Copyright © 2015, Elle James. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Kindle Edition
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Author’s Note
Read other stories in the Take No Prisoners Series:
Take No Prisoners Series
SEAL’s Honor (#1)
SEAL’s Desire (#2)
SEAL’s Embrace (#3)
SEAL’s Obsession (#4)
SEAL’s Proposal (#5)
SEAL’s Seduction (#6)
SEAL’s Defiance (#7)
HOT SEALS Kindle World: SEAL’s Ultimate Challenge
Visit www.ellejames.com for more titles and release dates
Also visit her alter-ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com
and join Elle James and Myla Jackson’s Newsletter at Newsletter
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all of the dedicated first responders who risk their lives daily to help people and animals when all hell breaks loose! Thank you to the firefighters, paramedics and law enforcement personnel for being there when we need you most.
Escape with…
Elle James
aka Myla Jackson
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Author’s Note
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the Author
Other Titles by Elle James
Excerpt from SEAL’s Honor
Chapter One
‡
The hot July sun beat down on the asphalt road. Shimmering heat waves rose like mirages as Becket Grayson drove the twenty miles home to Coyote Creek Ranch outside of Hellfire, Texas. Wearing only a sweat-damp T-shirt and the fire retardant pants and boots of a firefighter, he couldn’t wait to get home, strip, and dive into the pool. Although he’d have to hose down before he clouded the water with the thick layer of soot covering his body from head to toe.
The Hellfire Volunteer Firefighter Association met the first Saturday of every month for training in firefighting, rescues, and first responder care. Today had been particularly grueling in the late summer swelter. Old Lady Mersen graciously donated her dilapidated barn for structural fire training and rescue.
All thirty volunteers had been on hand to participate. Though hot, the training couldn’t have gone better. Each volunteer got a real taste of how fast an old barn would go up in flames, and just how much time they had to rescue any humans or animals inside. Some had the opportunity to exercise the use of SCBA, self-contained breathing apparatus, the masks and oxygen tanks that allowed them to enter smoke-filled buildings, limiting exposure and damage to their lungs. Other volunteers manned the fire engine and tanker truck, shuttling water from a nearby pond to the portable tank deployed on the ground. They unloaded a total of five tanks onto the barn fire before it was completely extinguished. With only one tanker truck, the shuttle operation slowed their ability to put out the fire, as the blaze rebuilt each time they ran out of water in the holding pool. They needed at least two tanker trucks in operation to keep the water flowing. As small as the Hellfire community was, the first engine and tanker truck would never have happened without generous donations from everyone in the district and a government grant. But, they had an engine that could carry a thousand, and a tanker capable of thirty-five hundred gallons. Forty-five hundred gallons was better than nothing.
Hot, tired, and satisfied with what he’d learned about combating fire without the advantages of a city fire hydrant and unlimited water supply, Becket had learned one thing that day. Firefighting involved a lot more than he’d ever imagined. As the Fire Chief said, all fires were different, just like people were different. Experience taught you the similarities, but you had to expect the unexpected.
Two miles from his turnoff, Becket could almost taste the ice-cold beer waiting in the fridge and feel the cool water of the ranch swimming pool on his skin.
A puff of dark smoke drifted up from a stalled vehicle on the shoulder of the road ahead. The puff grew into a billowing cloud, rising into the air.
Becket slowed as he neared the disabled vehicle.
A black-haired woman stood in the V of the open driver’s door, attempting to push the vehicle off the road. She didn’t need to worry about getting it off the road so much as getting herself away from the smoke and fire before the gas tank ignited and blew the car to pieces.
A hundred yards away from the potential disaster, Becket slammed on his brakes, shifted into park, and jumped out of his truck. “Get away from the car!” he yelled, running toward the idiot woman. “Get away before it explodes!”
The woman shot a brief glance back at him before continuing on her mission to get the car completely off the road and into the bone-dry grass.
Becket ran up behind her, grabbed her around the middle, and hauled her away from the now-burning vehicle.
“Let go of me!” she screamed, tearing at his hands. “I have to get it off the road.”
“Damn it, lady, it’s not safe.” Not knowing when the tank would ignite, he didn’t have time to argue. Becket spun her around, threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and jogged away from the burning vehicle.
“I have to get it off the road,” she said, her voice breaking with each jolt to her gut.
“Leave it where it is. I’ll call in the fire department, they’ll have the fire out before you know it. In the meantime, that vehicle is dangerous.” He didn’t stop or put her down until he was back behind his truck.
He set her on her feet, but she darted away from him, running back toward the vehicle, her long, jet-black hair flying out behind her.
Becket lunged, grabbed her arm, and jerked her back. “Are you crazy?”
“I can’t leave it in the road,” she sobbed. “Don’t you see? He’ll find it. He’ll find me!” She tried prying his fingers free of her arm.
He wasn’t letting go.
“The fire will ignite the gas tank. Unless you want to be fried like last year’s turkey, you need to stand clear.” He held her back to his chest, forcing her to view the fire and the inherent danger.
She sagged against him, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I have to hide it.”
“Can I trust you to stay put?”
She nodded, her hair falling into her face.
“I’m making a call to the Hellfire Volunteer Firefighters Association.”
Before he finished talking, she was shaking her head. “No. You can’t. No one can know I’m here.”
“Why?” He settled his hands on her shoulders and was about to turn her to face him when an explosion rocked the ground.
Becket grabbed the woman around the wais
t.
She yelped and whimpered as Becket ducked behind the tailgate of his pickup, and waited for the debris to settle. Then he slowly rose.
Smoke and fire shot into the air. Where the car had been now was a raging inferno. Black smoke curled into the sky.
“Sweetheart, I won’t have to call 911. In the next fifteen minutes, this place will be surrounded by firefighters.”
Her head twisted left and right as she attempted to pry his hands away from her waist. “You’re hurting me.”
He released her immediately. “The sheriff will want a statement from you.”
“No. I can’t.” Again, she darted away from him. “I have to get as far away from here as possible.”
Becket snagged her arm again and whipped her around. “You can’t just leave the scene of a fire. There will be an investigation.” He stared down at her, finally getting a look at her. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t…” The young woman glanced up, eyes narrowing. She reached up a hand and rubbed some of the soot off his face. Recognition dawned and her eyes grew round. “Becket? Becket Grayson?”
He nodded. “And I know I should know you, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Her widened eyes filled with tears, and she flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, dear God. Becket!”
He held her, struggling to remember who she was.
Her body trembled, her arms like clamps around his neck.
“Hey.” Surprised by her outburst, Becket patted her back. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not,” she cried into his sweat-dampened shirt, further soaking it with her tears. “No, it’s not.”
His heart contracted, feeling some of the pain in her voice. “Yes, it is. But you have to start by telling me who you are.” He hugged her again, then loosened the arms around his neck and pushed her to arms’ length. “Well?”
The cheek she’d rested against his chest was black with soot, her hair wild and tangled. Familiar green eyes, red-rimmed and awash with tears, looked up at him. “You don’t remember me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Sorry. You look awfully familiar, but I’m just not making the connection.” He smiled gently. “Enlighten me.”
“I’m Kinsey Phillips. We used to be neighbors.”
His confusion cleared, and he grinned. “Little Kinsey Phillips? The girl who used to hang out with Nash and follow us around the ranch, getting into trouble?”
Sniffling, she nodded.
Becket shook his head and ran his gaze over her from head to toe. “Look at you, all grown up.” He chuckled. “Although, you didn’t get much taller.”
She straightened to her full height. “No. Sadly, I stopped growing taller when I was thirteen.”
“Well, Little Kinsey…” He pulled her into the curve of his arm and faced the burning mess that had been her car. “What brings you back to Hellfire? Please tell me you didn’t come to have your car worked on by my brother, Rider. I’m afraid there’s no hope for it.”
She bit her lip, and the tremors of a few moments before returned. “I didn’t know where else to go. But I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”
Her low, intense tone made Becket’s fists clench, ready to take on whatever had her so scared. “Why do you say that?”
“He’ll find me and make me pay.”
“Who will find you?” Becket demanded, turning her to face him again.
She looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling. “My ex-boyfriend.”
Kinsey’s shuddered, her entire body quaking with the magnitude of what she’d done. She’d made a bid for freedom. If she didn’t distance herself from the condemning evidence, all of her efforts to escape the hell she’d lived in for the past year, would be for nothing.
Sirens sounded in the distance, shaking her out of her stupor and spurring her to action. “You can’t let them question me.” She turned toward the still-burning vehicle. “It’s bad enough this is the first place he’ll look for me.”
“Who is your boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Kinsey corrected. “Dillon Massey.”
“Name’s familiar. Is he from around here?”
Kinsey shook her head, scanning the immediate area. “No, he’s from Waco. He played football for Baylor a couple years ago, and he’s playing for the Cowboys now.”
“Massey, the quarterback?”
“Yes.” She nodded, and then grabbed Becket’s hands. “Please, you can’t let anyone know I’m here. Dillon will make them think I’m crazy, and that I need him to look out for me.” Kinsey pulled herself up straight. “I’m not. I’ve never been more lucid in my life. I had to get away.”
Becket frowned. “Why?”
She raised her blouse, exposing the bruises on her ribs. “And there are more. Everywhere most people won’t see.”
His brows dipping lower, Becket’s nostrils flared. “Bastard.”
“You have no idea.” Kinsey glanced toward the sound of the sirens. “Please. Let me hide. I can’t face anyone.”
“Who does the car belong to?”
Her jaw tightened. “Me. I’m surprised it got me this far. The thing has barely been driven in over a year.”
“Why not?”
“He parked it in his shed and hid the keys. I found them early this morning, while he was passed out drunk.”
“When they conduct the investigation, they’ll trace the license plates.”
She tilted her chin. “I removed them.”
“Did you leave a purse with your identification inside the vehicle?”
“No. I didn’t bring anything. I knew I’d have to start over with a new name.”
“If there’s anything left of the Vehicle Identification Number, they can track it through the system.”
Glancing at the empty road, the sirens sounding closer, Kinsey touched Becket’s arm. “It will take time for them to find the details. By then, I could be halfway across the country. But right now, I can’t talk to the sheriff or the firemen. If anyone knows I’m here, that knowledge could find its way into some police database and will allow Dillon to locate me. He has connections with the state police, the district courts, and who knows what other organizations.” She shook her head. “I won’t go back to him.”
“Okay, okay.” Becket rounded to the passenger side and opened the door. “Get in.”
She scrambled in, hands shaking, her heart beating so fast she was sure it would explode like the car. Kinsey glanced out the back window of the truck. The road was still clear. A curve hid them from view for a little longer. “Hurry.”
“On it.” Dillon fired up the engine and pulled onto the blacktop, flooring the accelerator. They reached the next curve before the rescue vehicles appeared.
Kinsey collapsed against the seat back, her nerves shot and her stomach roiling. “That was close.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know just how close. If emergency vehicles hadn’t been coming, I would not have left. As dry as it’s been, a fire like that could spread too easily, consuming thousands of acres if left unchecked.”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you to leave the scene, but I know Dillon. The last time I tried to leave, I was caught because he called the state police and had me hauled home.”
“Couldn’t you have gone to a hospital and asked for a social worker to verify your injuries?” Becket glanced her way, his brows furrowed in a deep V. “Women’s shelters are located all over Dallas.”
“I tried.” She turned toward the window, her heart hurting, reliving the pain of the beating he’d given her when he’d brought her home. He’d convinced the hospital she’d fallen down the stairs. No one wanted to believe the quarterback of an NFL team would terrorize his girlfriend into submission, beating her whenever he felt like it. “Look, you don’t need to be involved in this. If you could take me to the nearest truck stop, I’ll hitch a ride.”
“Where would you go?”
“Wherever the trucker is go
ing.”
He shook his head. “Hitchhiking is dangerous.”
Kinsey snorted. “It’d be a cakewalk compared to what I’ve been through.”
Becket sat silent, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Nash is part of the sheriff’s department in Hellfire now. Let me call him.”
“No!” She shook her head, violently. “You can’t report me to the sheriff’s department. I told you. Dillon has friends everywhere, even in the state police and Texas Rangers. He’d have them looking for me. If a report popped up anywhere in the state, they’d notify him immediately.”
“When was the last time he saw you?”
“Last night. After he downed a fifth of whiskey, Dillon gave me the bruises you saw. I’m sure he slept it off by eight this morning. He’ll be looking for me. By now, he’s got the state police on the lookout for my car. He probably reported it as stolen. I wouldn’t be surprised if he puts out a missing person report, claiming I’ve been kidnapped.” Kinsey sighed. “Take me to the truck stop. I won’t have you arrested for helping me.”
“I’m not taking you to the truck stop.”
Kinsey slid the window down a crack and listened. She couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. Her pulse slowed and she allowed herself to relax against the back of the seat.
Becket slowed and turned at the gate to the Coyote Creek Ranch.
The entrance was just as she remembered. Rock columns supported the huge arched sign with the name of the ranch burned into the wood. She’d grown up on the much-smaller ranch next door. The only child of older parents, she’d ride her horse to visit the Graysons. She loved Nash and Rider like the brothers she’d never had. Chance had been a wild card, away more than he was there, and Becket…
As a young teen, Kinsey had the biggest crush on Becket, the oldest of the Graysons. She’d loved his longish blond hair and those startling blue eyes. Even now, covered in soot, his eyes were a bright spot of color on an otherwise-blackened face.
“I can’t stay here,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Your wife and children don’t need me dragging them through whatever Dillon has in store for me. I guarantee, repercussions will be bad.”