by Jo Davis
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
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
Teaser chapter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Praise for Trial by Fire
“A five-alarm read . . . riveting, sensual.”
—Beyond Her Book
“Jo Davis turns up the heat full blast with Trial by Fire. Romantic suspense that has it all: a sizzling firefighter hero, a heroine you’ll love, and a story that crackles and pops with sensuality and action. All I can say is, keep the fire extinguisher handy or risk spontaneous combustion!”
—Linda Castillo, national bestselling author of
Sworn to Silence
“Jo Davis set the trap, baited the hook, and completely reeled me in with Trial by Fire. Heady sexual tension, heartwarming romance, and combustible love scenes just added fuel to the fire. . . . Joyfully recommended!”—Joyfully Reviewed
“A brilliant start to one of the most exciting ‘band of brothers’ series since J. R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood. It’s sweet and sexy, tense and suspenseful, and—the best part—pushes the erotic envelope in a way that fuses emotional intimacy with hot, sweaty sensuality.”—myLifetime.com
“For a poignant and steamy romance with a great dose of suspense, be sure to pick up a copy of Trial by Fire . . . as soon as it hits the bookstores!”
—Wild on Books (5 Bookmarks)
“Hot, sizzling sex and edge-of-your-seat terror will have you glued to this fantastic romantic suspense story from the first page to the final word. Do not miss the heart-stopping, breath-stealing, incredibly well-written Trial by Fire.”
—Romance Novel TV
SIGNET ECLIPSE
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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, December 2009
Copyright © Jo Davis, 2009
eISBN : 978-1-101-15191-4
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To my grandmother, Ladine Howard,
who once fell in love with a handsome rogue who refused
to take no for an answer. You did your best to turn Papaw away
at the dance . . . and we all know how that story turned out.
But then, you always did love a happy ending.
Granny, Julian’s story is for you.
I miss you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, my heartfelt thanks to:
My husband, Paul, for whisking me out of town for much-needed alone time after finishing a particularly tough book. And to our awesome teenagers, for their continued love and support.
Tracy Garrett and Suzanne Welsh, my critique partners, for your advice and friendship.
Debra Stevens, my lifelong friend, for forcing me out of my cave and handing out my reality checks when needed.
The Foxes, for keeping me sane. I love you guys.
Roberta Brown, my one-of-a-kind agent and friend.
My editor, Tracy Bernstein, and all of the fabulous folks at NAL. Your class is untouchable, bar none.
Captain Steve Deutsch for keeping my facts straight.
Author’s note: Any mistakes I’ve made or liberties I’ve taken for story line purposes are completely my own.
1
Julian Salvatore sprayed a steady stream of water at Station Five’s ambulance, rinsing off the soapsuds and gyrating around the vehicle to “Life in the Fast Lane” blaring from the radio just inside the bay.
Nothing like the Eagles to make a boring task bearable.
Using the nozzle as a microphone, he lip-synched a little Don Henley, punctuating the heavy downbeat with blasts to the bubbles. Watching them slide away. Thinking, yeah, he could relate. He enjoyed life a bit too fast.
Too bad he was on shift. He craved some action, and not the type to be found here, working with four guys he couldn’t quite call pals. Not that he hadn’t made an effort—no, screw that. Friendship shouldn’t come with a set of conditions, and God knew his best was never good enough.
Forcing down the old disappointment, he conjured an image of feminine curves, toned thighs. Long, white blond hair draped over his chest, violet eyes holding him captive, while their slick bodies moved in time to the pounding music—
Which abruptly lowered several notches, poofing his fantasy to dust.
“Jeez, man. You selling tickets?”
Julian glanced toward the door to the bay. Zack Knight, A-shift’s fire apparatus operator—aka engine driver— straightened and turned away from the portable radio, cell phone to one ear. Knight leaned against the grille of the big quint, cooing into the phone like a frickin’ turtledove.
“. . . know I don’t care, beautiful,” Knight was saying, face glowing with happiness. “Whatever color you want me to stain it is fine.”
Yep, totally whipped.
&nb
sp; Rolling his eyes, Julian made an exaggerated gagging noise. Knight shot him the finger and a big grin, and Julian couldn’t resist smiling back as he shut off the water. So, the geek had grown a big, steely pair after all. Love must do weird shit to a guy.
He wouldn’t know. Nor did he care to.
“Salvatore!”
He started, stifling a curse. Cristo, the captain had a way of lying low, then leaping out of nowhere to lop off an unsuspecting victim’s head like some sort of damned ninja assassin.
Julian turned, pasting on his most innocent expression—a stretch, even on his best day. “Hey, Cap. What’s shakin’?”
Sean Tanner got in his personal space, vibrating with anger from head to toe. He rested his hands on his narrow hips, green eyes snapping. Hoo-yah, this was gonna be a scream.
“I’m going to say this once. The prepubescent shit is getting old. You’re done.”
Julian stared back. What the hell? “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
“The tampon prank was funny the first time, although inappropriate. You’re lucky Eve didn’t make an issue of it before, but this? Stringing them across the ladies’ restroom door is going too far.”
Knight closed his cell phone, slid it into his pants pocket, and watched with interest. Julian laughed. He couldn’t help it.
“Man, you need to lighten up. Eve’s cool and you know she dishes out as much as she takes.”
Tanner’s face hardened. “I’m fed up, Salvatore. Knock that crap off before you wind up with a formal complaint in your file.”
Julian’s humor fled. “Why don’t you look into the mirror, amigo, say that three times, and see if you land in Kansas. You’re not the only one who’s fed up.”
Color flooded Tanner’s cheeks as he sputtered, “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“Want to make me spell it out? Fine. You’re not doing such a great job yourself, but you don’t hesitate to shout and bitch at everyone who doesn’t meet your impossible standards.” Julian sighed, shaking his head. “You know what? Forget it. I’m not doing this. The point is, I’m not the one who pulled the stunt. I don’t have a clue who did, and frankly, sir, I don’t give a rat’s ass. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.”
For the first time in his career, Julian gave his back to a superior. And it hurt a helluva lot more than he’d have thought.
Because in that moment, in a startling burst of clarity, he realized Tanner had lost his respect.
Everyone went through rough times, Tanner’s rougher than most. But the captain wasn’t the only one who’d faced total devastation and lived to tell.
Are you hurt, hijo?
No, mamá.
Oh, no. Not going there. Grabbing an old towel, he shoved the memory into its tamperproof compartment and began to dry the ambulance. He longed to get in Tanner’s grille, set him straight. Tell the uptight bastard he didn’t have the market cornered on pain and suffering. Tell him—
“Damn, you should’ve seen his expression,” Knight remarked quietly, coming to stand beside him.
“He’s gone?” Julian wasn’t about to give Tanner the satisfaction of looking.
“After he gave about two seconds’ thought to ripping your head off, yeah.” Knight paused, blinking behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “You shocked him. I mean, I’ve gotten pretty good at not letting him get to me, but nobody stands up to him like that except Six-Pack.”
“And Eve.”
“True.”
Lieutenant Howard “Six-Pack” Paxton was Tanner’s best friend, Eve Marshall their sole female firefighter. Six-Pack was six and a half feet of towering muscle, Eve whipcord lean but tough. Neither of them took crap off anybody.
Julian started on the windshield, keeping his voice low. “Has the intervention been scheduled?”
“I was on my way out to talk to you about it when Cori phoned. Six-Pack needs to meet with all of us first so we’re on the same page with how to proceed. Everyone else is free Friday afternoon. We were thinking around three, at Six-Pack and Kat’s new house. Work for you?”
“I’ve got a date later, but sure. I’ll be there.”
Knight clapped him on the shoulder, then wandered off. Julian tried to imagine Tanner’s reaction when he realized what they’d planned, and winced. No man wanted to listen to the people closest to him air his drinking problem in a public forum. He had a feeling this giant group hug was going to backfire something awful. For the record, he’d warned them.
Still, something had to be done before Sean killed himself.
Three loud high tones over the intercom system scattered his thoughts. The pleasantly creepy computerized voice announced a kitchen fire at one of Sugarland’s few high-end restaurants.
Pitching the towel into the bay, he sprinted for his gear, almost relieved for the distraction.
Almost. If he’d learned anything in all his years as a firefighter, it was that complacence on the job was usually followed by unmitigated disaster.
He might get a dark thrill out of tempting fate, but he wasn’t stupid.
Julian grabbed a hose and jogged for the rear entry of the restaurant, Tommy Skyler at his back. Displaced diners milled around the front and side of the building, and Julian spared them a glance as he and Skyler approached the kitchen door.
Most of them appeared to have departed, but a few onlookers watched the proceedings with avid interest. As always, his roving eyes zeroed in on the women, some dressed business casual, but a couple in classy power suits. Including a tall, willowy blonde who seemed to be staring right at him.
Recognition zapped him as if he’d touched a live circuit, charging his libido. He stopped so abruptly, Skyler plowed into his back with a curse.
Grace McKenna.
Five feet eleven delectable inches of cream-your-boxer-briefs temptation. The violet-eyed beauty of his lusty fantasies, the Ice Princess who’d ignored every one of his advances. Well, except for that one toe-curling kiss all those months ago.
And Six-Pack’s off-limits sister-in-law.
He couldn’t have Grace.
Which, of course, only made him want her more.
“What’re you doing, man? Go, go!” Skyler yelled.
Shaking it off and breaking eye contact, he ran. What was he doing? A split second of inattention on the job could get a firefighter killed. He wasn’t ready to die today, and certainly not over a woman.
A woman who wouldn’t suffer a moment of remorse if something bad didhappen to him.
Focus. The kitchen was almost fully engulfed in flames, but he and Skyler managed to wrestle the blaze under control with relatively little difficulty. The stove provided the worst problem, since the extinguishing system in the vent hood over it had apparently failed. The unit, covered in grease and equipped with a vat for frying, had gone up like a torch, but was quickly subdued by Eve with chemical foam.
The heat was a nasty bitch, though, boiling his skin through the heavy protective clothing. He’d reek of smoke and sweat, and he hoped they had a long enough reprieve from the calls later to sneak a shower.
Through the kitchen entry into the restaurant’s dining room, he saw Eve join Six-Pack to do a walk-through of the premises. Six-Pack gave him a thumbs-up for an all clear, so they had to concentrate only on the kitchen area and make sure no hot spots remained.
Leaving their buddies to handle that part, Julian and Skyler shut off the hose and exited the way they’d come in. Skyler took charge of helping Knight put away the hose, and as Julian removed his mask to let it dangle around his neck, he observed that the younger man had really started to mature in the past couple of months.
Julian shook his head with a rueful laugh. Yeah, he was such an expert on maturity.
Then he didn’t have time to think about Skyler anymore because, Dios mío, Grace was striding toward him purposefully, lovely expression cool and composed as ever. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought she was marching forward to serve him
with a subpoena. After months of her ignoring his phone calls, he couldn’t imagine what on earth she had to say to him.
But it couldn’t be good.
And yippee, here he was caught off guard and out of his groove. With her crisp blouse under her tailored suit jacket and hair in an elegant twist at her nape, the woman looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Vogue. An equally sharp-dressed man trailed in her wake—her lunch date?—while Julian was a stinky, sooty old gym sock. Shit. Feeling self-conscious and hating it, he raked his fingers through his wet hair, pasting on a grin.
“Querida, you picked a fine time to accept my dinner invitation. As you can see, I’m a bit underdressed.”
Grace stopped in front of him, huge eyes softening the merest fraction. “I had to stay and make certain you were all right,” she said, her soft, melodic voice edged with a tiny hint of concern.
Just like that, his knees went weak. His heart thudded madly in his chest and for once in his life, he could think of nothing clever to say. The armor of his sarcastic wit deserted him, leaving him naked and squirming.
“I . . . I’m fine, Grace,” he said, shrugging.
“And Howard?” She squinted toward the smoldering restaurant, worry for her sister’s husband plain.
“We’re good. Just another day in the jungle. How have you been?” Why haven’t you acknowledged my existence?
Clutching her purse, she favored him with a polite smile that seized his lungs. “Busy. Half the population needs an attorney.”
“And they’re all innocent, I’m sure.”
“Of course. Those are the only ones I defend.” As though suddenly reminded of her lunch date, she glanced to the man standing behind her and waved him forward. “Oh! Gentlemen, I apologize. Derek, this is an acquaintance of mine, Julian Salvatore. He works with my sister’s husband. Julian, this is Derek Vines.”