Feline the Heat (The Firehouse Feline Book 1)

by L. A. Boruff

  "I'm going to get dressed," I tell him before returning to my room.

  Our uniforms are relatively comfortable. Dark blue cargo pants, a belt, and a tee that has the Blackwater Falls emblem on the breast and back. Black boots finish it off. We're required to keep our hair neat and no facial hair, of course. I run an electric shaver over my face before stepping out into the hall.

  Will waits for me, dressed and playing with his phone. "Nope, nope, nope, nope." He swipes at his phone while pictures of women go by.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to find someone in this town I haven't dated."

  "There's always Sugar," I suggest.

  His nose wrinkles. "That’d be like dating my sister."

  I laugh. I guess he does have his limits.

  "You think our new neighbor has her profile posted somewhere?"

  I picture the beautiful blonde. "I don’t think she needs a profile."

  He lowers his phone. "So she’s what, a nine out of ten?"

  I shake my head. "My mom would slap me if I rated a woman."

  "A ten out of ten?" he asks, his eyes widening.

  I turn. "I’m not saying a word, man."

  He hurries behind me. "A fucking ten out of ten? You bastard! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?"

  "And have you run out to meet her naked?" If she was scared before, I can’t imagine how she’d react to that.

  He catches up to me. "She probably wouldn't have run away if she'd seen me."

  I laugh again. Will is so good at the cocky asshole act that sometimes he makes me forget about his squishy heart. "Yeah, sure, you keep telling yourself that."

  He shrugs. "I’ve never had a complaint."

  I knew him in his seed-sowing days. We even shared a bedroom wall. So as much as I like to tease him, I’ve never heard his ladies complain either. Just a lot of thumping against my wall and moaning.

  We walk out into the bay to find the truck running with James and Sugar waiting on us.

  "Let's go, baby!" Sugar calls from the passenger seat.

  We wave at her and climb in the back, putting on the headphones that are necessary to communicate over the noise of the engine. "Sugar, don't you dare touch that siren," I say into the microphone.

  She turns and gives me a toothy grin. "Who, me?" her voice crackles in my ear. "Would I do that?"

  "In a hot minute," James replies for me. He pulls us out onto the street.

  I peer out the window at our neighbor's house as we pass by. I'm fairly sure I see the curtain twitch in the upstairs window, but I can't be positive. "I wonder what her story is."

  "With any luck, we'll show up with these alarms and a pie or something and she'll tell us." Sugar waves at Ms. Blevins walking with her new baby on the sidewalk. We know most everyone in the neighborhood. It's hard not to in a town so small.

  It doesn't take long to get to the hardware store. We make it in about five minutes. The town is tiny, after all. Once there, we take a minute to let a child explore the truck and press the siren button. One of the perks of the job is being admired by all the kids we meet, and some of the adults.

  Of course, Will flirts mercilessly with the little boy's mom. "C'mon, William," I say with a smile. "Time to go."

  He salutes the woman, walking backward. "Man, your dick is gonna fall off," I mutter. "One of these days you're gonna do the wrong woman, and it's gonna fall right off."

  "I'm sure there's a spell for that," he whispers.

  "Not here, dude." I look around the parking lot as we walk in. People mill in and out of the building, but nobody is close enough to have heard him. The beautiful autumn day has half the county out, eager to start improvement-type projects now that summer is behind us, and before the winter freeze kicks in.

  "Nobody heard me," he hisses. "Chill."

  Will has always been more relaxed with our secrets. Even as a boy. We lived next door to each other, and our parents were friends, so we spent a ton of time together. I knew him better than I knew anyone else, and the same went for him. But there was one issue with knowing each other so well: we knew exactly how to get under each other’s skin. And he knows I hate when he talks about our secrets in public.

  "I am chill," I tell him, trying to hide my irritation, but failing.

  He grins.

  James steps between us. "You guys fighting already?"

  "All I mentioned was a spell."

  James rolls his eyes.

  The slight tension between us fades. James is the peace-keeper between us. He moved to our seaside town five years ago, joining the fire department as soon as the Captain would hire him, but it felt like he’d always been a part of our group. Like the brother we never had.

  Sugar squeezes between us. "Uh, we looking at alarms or talking about our feelings?"

  Will squeezes her waist. "You’re the boss."

  She winks. "That’s right, big boy."

  We’re all grinning as we follow her through the store. There’s something about today that feels different. More exciting. And I know exactly why. Callie. The mystery woman.

  I’m still smiling and thinking about her when we reach the right aisle. The debate over what model to buy, how many to buy, and whether we should also get window alarms takes a good twenty minutes.

  James finally walks up to us and grabs the cheapest models, one for each door. "Let's go."

  "Who died and made you boss?" Sugar asks. Her voice is loud, but we know she's not serious. It's her way.

  "Captain."

  "Maybe if I'm paying I decide what model?" she argues, but doesn’t turn around to get a different alarm.

  "Who says you're paying?" Will asks. "I want to be the one to buy the door alarm for the hot naked woman."

  "She's not still naked." I push him, and he dances around a paintbrush display.

  "I can hope, can't I? You got to see her naked, I want to see her naked, too."

  "Will you two shut up?" James gives us an exasperated look. "You're like a couple of teenagers."

  I point at Will with my lips pressed closed.

  Sugar laughs. "You hide behind the smart guy look, Hank, but you're as horny as Will is. You can't fool me. One of these days I'll show you boys how it's done."

  I snort. "Sugar, we all know you're banging the captain."

  "You know nothing of the sort." She sticks her nose in the air. "Mind your business."

  Snickering, we follow her to the checkout counter, where she insists on paying. She has some sort of inheritance that enables her to volunteer with the fire department instead of seeking a paid position. She swears she has no need to work for a living, but wants to contribute to her community all she can, so she volunteers.

  My respect for the woman grows every time I learn more about her. On first contact, she's bossy, loud, and borderline rude. All that hides a heart of gold.

  The trip back to the station is quick, interrupted only by a quick fill-up at the gas station. Sugar runs in and buys a dozen donuts, then we're on our way back. As James backs the truck into the bay, Will snatches the bag and jumps out of the moving truck. "I'll go give them to her!"

  "The hell you will!" Sugar throws open her door and races after him. "You wait for me, you horny son of a bitch!"

  Chapter Three

  Callie

  "Look what you got us into," I tell my reflection with an exasperated sigh. The mirror is foggy from the steam of my shower, but I can see myself well enough.

  Unsurprisingly, my cat-self doesn’t reply. She never does.

  At least I’ve met the neighbors now.

  I’ve been trying to catch a look at the firemen ever since I arrived here three days ago, but my mission and unpacking kept me too busy. It’s the number one rule when moving to a new town. Check to see if the firefighters are hot.

  In this case, check and check.

  But having them see me naked? That was not in the plan. Not one bit.

  Damn cat!

  "I swear, one of these day
s, I’m going to fix you," I mumble at my cat.

  It’s an empty threat, and she knows it. She and I are one and the same, whether I like it or not. And I have no desire to get fixed, in cat or human form.

  "Maybe I should just pack up and run for it."

  The idea of seeing the hot firefighters again makes my cheeks heat. I'm going to put that off as long as humanly possible. But then my embarrassment fades, and I find myself thinking of them again. I didn’t even get their names.

  And yet, I remember the guy I’d woken up to with crystal clarity. He had the softest-looking brown hair I’d ever seen in my life, cut short. Even right after he woke up, his hair wasn’t messy. And when he smiled, there were little crinkles at the sides of his mouth.

  Unconsciously, I touch my lips, then catch my reflection in the mirror. I look turned on. Maybe I am. There was something about him that made everything inside me flutter.

  And then there was the other guy. He was his own kind of sexy. With blond hair and hazel eyes, he had a softer feel to him. Not that he wasn’t big and muscular, because he was. Again, it was a feeling I had.

  I could be wrong.

  Shaking my head, I scold myself for obsessing over the hotties. Turning, I leave my bathroom and walk into my bedroom. The suitcase in the corner draws my attention, and I admit I’m not going anywhere. As embarrassed as I was about my encounter with the firefighters, I’m here for a reason. Last night was the closest I’ve ever been to finding out the truth, and I’m not going anywhere until I get my answers.

  Which reminds me, time to get to work!

  I wrap my hair in a towel and swap the one around me for a fluffy robe. One of the best things about working from home is that no one will ever know I write most of my articles naked. The ones for my freelance job, as well as the ones for my secret paranormal blog.

  This isn't the time for article writing though. I have research to do first.

  A shiver moves down my spine, and I freeze. Flashes of the night before leave me frozen for a long minute. I saw a golem. I watched it kill someone.

  And it almost killed me.

  When I realize my heart is racing, I sit on the edge of my bed. "I’m fine. Nothing happened," I tell myself.

  My cat stirs within me as if to say I can lie to myself, but not to her. Last night was scary. I was scared. But that wouldn’t stop me from discovering the truth. No matter the risk.

  Because I’ll never figure out what happened to them, and I’ll never stop this curse. Not if I don’t follow this lead, no matter how dangerous it is.

  "I’m going to find out every fucking thing about golems, and my next blog entry is going to be the best one of my career."

  My cat stays silent, and I can’t help but hope that’s because she agrees with me.

  A lot of people insult my blog in the comments section. They even insinuate that it's completely made up, but no one can accuse me of not researching what I put out. I won't say a word about the golem I saw without looking into the background and mythology surrounding it.

  My readers deserve the best information I can find.

  Because, like me, many of them suspect there’s more to this world than most people believe. And, like me, many of them have suffered because of their ignorance.

  And lost people they love. But I don’t dwell on those painful memories, because they’re useless. And I have work to do.

  I power up my laptop, trying not to let my gaze stray to the firehouse. I might need to find somewhere else to work. I can already tell I'm going to get distracted waiting for the sexy-ass firemen to come back.

  Delicious firemen.

  I lick my lips. The temptation to set a fire so I can see them again is far higher than I want it to be. I've never had the urge to be a pyromaniac before.

  I thought you were thinking of running away. I push the teasing thought away, hating that the sexy men in uniform have gotten into my head already. No man ever gets into my head when I have work to do, so this is not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

  When my laptop is ready to go, I straighten, determined to stay focused. "Enough thinking about hot men. You've got work to do."

  Kids used to tease me about how much I talk to myself. I'm sure adults think mean things in their heads when they hear me too, but that doesn't stop me, ever. Talking to myself helps me think things through and work out where I stand, and I'll be damned if I let anyone change me.

  I pull out a pad of paper and sketch what I remember of the golem while uploading the videos and still images from the night before onto my laptop. I'm not the world's best artist, but I'm good enough to get by. Not that anyone will be seeing this. Just like they won't see any of my other sketches of things I've seen. It’s another part of my process.

  Leaning back in my seat, I study the drawing and wonder where I can start on the searching. If I type in golem, all that will happen is me ending up down a winding path of Lord of the Rings memes. I've been there before, and I don't have time for that. It's already been too long since I last posted on my blog. Moving takes so much time. I hate doing it, but I have to go where the research takes me, or I'll never find any real witches.

  And damn do I need to. I know the cat side of me wants to take control. She always does. In her mind, I work too hard while she just wants to curl up in the sun.

  "No luck for you," I tell her, despite the fact I know she doesn't pay much attention to me when I'm in my human form.

  I type a short description of the golem, hoping it'll match a book online somewhere. It's amazing what people have written about over the years.

  Sure enough, one pops up.

  "Why are you not an ebook?" I whine at the screen as I click on the buy button. It'll arrive in a couple of days, but that's so far away. What's the point of having the internet if I can't have the instant gratification of information at my fingertips?

  Stupid, modern world, trying to convince me it can give me everything I need but is only fucking with me.

  My frustration grows as I scroll through the other hits. There are plenty of books about golems, but most of them are fiction. One even seems to be about three super attractive golems loving one woman.

  I look over my shoulder before clicking buy and sending it to my e-reader. I know no one is watching me, and yet part of me feels the need to check before downloading such a risque book. I could pretend it'll contain the kind of information I need, but I'd be lying to myself. I want something to keep me company at night.

  Though there are sexy firemen next door that would do the trick.

  A shake of my head clears the errant thoughts. I can't focus on men, I have work to do.

  The next link looks a bit more promising. There are a couple of fuzzy photographs that almost look like the thing I saw, but I wouldn't put money on it. But it does suggest that there's something real in the reports I'm seeing.

  I scan through them, jotting down a couple of notes. Most of what's on here is utter trash, but there's some stuff about how to summon one. According to this site, there needs to be earth splashed with holy water and scattered with the ashes of a sacrificed virgin.

  There's no containing my eye roll.

  How cliche. Why is it always a virgin? At least it means I'll never be used in some kind of weird sacrificial ceremony.

  It's more than I had before though, so I happily accept what I'm given. Hopefully the book I've ordered will reveal more information about them, because there's nothing at all mentioning witches in what I'm reading.

  I swipe a hand over my face, hitting the towel turban and knocking it askew. I lurch to try and catch it, but it's already too late; the whole thing comes tumbling down.

  The hair turban: yet one more secret of womanhood that I don't have the hang of.

  Ignoring the pile of towels on the floor, I turn to my screen. There has to be something else here. There just has to be.

  My eyes start to stick together, and my throat itches. I should get myself a coffee machine to
keep next to my laptop, at least then I might be able to stay awake long enough to do the work I need to.

  At a complete loss for what else to do, I pull up my favorite paranormal-spotters forum. I use a fake name, naturally. It's full of weird people who don't have a clue what they're talking about most of the time, but sometimes there's something worthwhile.

  I start a new thread, hoping it won't be spammed like the last one. Not that it was anyone's fault but my own. I should know better than to start a thread about whether or not the Loch Ness Monster is real. I thought I had some evidence that would change things forever. I was wrong.

  The drawing next to me calls my name. Perhaps I should break my own rule and upload a photo of it. That's probably quicker than describing it. But I don't want to alert the wrong people with an accurate drawing. People have died over less.

  Content that my normal avenues of research were all in place, I switch to searching for more about the man who had died yesterday.

  Why couldn't he have told me his name? That would make things so much simpler.

  As it is, he told me enough that I may be able to find him, but it's not going to be the easiest task. All I have to do is cross-reference lottery winners and people in the area. That should only take a little bit of illegal snooping.

  He said he'd won a day after he'd made the deal, which was five years ago yesterday. That's some pretty specific information and should be enough for me to get started.

  Hopefully.

  It takes me all of ten minutes to find him. Which is ridiculous. If he's so easy to find, why wouldn't he have told me his name?

  I try to hold in the snort as I look at the name on my screen.

  Richard Cockburn, known to his friends as Dick. No wonder he doesn't want to tell people.

  Didn't. He's dead now, I can't forget that. Remembering makes it feel kind of icky that I'm laughing at his name. The poor man must have been teased mercilessly at school.

  And in death, apparently.

  Nothing in his online presence tells me what I need to know. Though it would be foolish of me to think a witch would make her contact details known online. That would be too easy, and if there's one thing I've learned about the paranormal community, it's that they're damn good at secrecy.