by Siera London
Table of Contents
About This Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Paige Tyler. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Dallas Fire & Rescue remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Paige Tyler, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Commanding Heat
Dallas Fire & Rescue
(Kindle Worlds)
Bestselling Author
Siera London
COMMANDING HEAT
Cover art by Fantasia Frog
Images licensed via DepositPhoto
Edited by Gayla Leath of Dark Dreams Editing
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Paige Tyler for creating the Dallas Fire & Rescue world filled with kick-butt heroines and sexy firefighters. I had a lot of fun letting my imagination run wild with Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast. Trace and Tori’s story may be the end of the road for my Key West crew, so enjoy the magic carpet ride.
—To Fire Captain D. Austin, your input has been invaluable.
—To Carole, thank you for the French lesson.
—To my editor, Gayla Leath, you are the answer to my prayers.
—To Shannon Lester-Hayes, you have freed me to write and I can’t thank you enough.
—To Michele, Angel, Xyla, LaQuette, and Tammy, you are my sounding board and my support network. You are all amazing ladies and I’m grateful for your friendship.
—As always, to Mr. Awesome, you are my romance of a lifetime.
—To Him who is able to keep us from falling, both now and forever, thank you, God.
Sincerely,
Siera
About This Book
On the run and alone, Victoria Currey has two weeks to rescue her father. Unfortunately, she wakes up in a hospital bed, with a sexy stranger whose voice she recognizes, and four days left. With no money and no one to turn to, how long does she have before she’s captured again?
Firefighter, Trace Fletcher’s organized life is turned upside down when he pulls an unconscious sleeping beauty from a fire. He knows he can’t have her, but from the moment she turns those soft brown eyes on him, he never wants to let her go. The veiled fear lurking in their depths calls to his dark past and the life he left behind.
For Victoria, Trace is unlike any man she’s ever met, and she has every intention of exploring the passion he commands until reality catches up to her. The heat between them rages out of control, but their passion comes at a price. When danger comes knocking, demanding payment, it's not just Victoria’s life in peril, but the carefully constructed walls Trace has erected between his old life and new beginning.
Chapter One
White light and a surge of intense heat filled the hallway a second before Victoria Currey was hurled through the air. The entire building, a two-story structure for senior citizens, vibrated. The sound of shattering glass panes began, one after the other in perfect concert, as flames leaped from open doors along the residential corridor. The force of the explosion slammed her back against the wall, where she crash-landed. Her body folded like a dry leaf propelled to the ground by a violent wind. Pain wrapped around her shoulders and slashed the length of her spine. As the horrendous sensation snaked down her legs, she held her breath until spots danced before her eyes. Her body demanding oxygen, she gasped in a deep inhale. Instantly, she regretted the action. Thick smoke, acrid and toxic, filled her throat. The burn traveled quickly to her chest making it difficult to expand her lungs.
She lay there, all too aware of the fire encroaching on her location.
Mustering her strength, she pressed soot-covered fingers against the tile and dragged herself upright from the floor.
“Dear heaven.” The hot air had a sauna effect, making her light-headed. Tori couldn’t pass out. She’d traveled for two days on the bus to reach her father. They both needed to get out of Key West to avoid capture again.
Flames burst into the hallway on her left. She watched as the blaze grew, branching in multiple directions, a ravenous blossom with an unlimited food supply. Fear shot through her, but she held the sob inside. She would probably die here, on the floor, defeated. Something crashed beyond the flames. Like a zipper released, the inferno wall separated and a big body clothed in a reflective suit emerged. A firefighter. His confident stride held an air of menace that seemed to command the scorching heat to abate. A mask with some type of breathing apparatus covered his face, but she could sense his eyes on her. Her torso collapsed on her extended arm. Without regard to pride or position, she called to him.
“Help me.”
A huge arm caught her around the back, lifting her. Tori’s curves filled the cradle he formed when he swept her off her feet, her body pressed against a chest double the size of her. Black clouds of smoke sandwiched them in. Her eyes burned, the heat had evaporated her tears. Charred stench surrounded them. As he navigated through darkened spaces, jostling her in his arms, she clenched her teeth against the stinging bite in her head. Oh God, Daddy where are you? She wouldn’t survive if she lost him too.
She whimpered, clinging to her savior.
“I’ve got you,” he said. His voice was dark and melodic. Her stomach fluttered, and she jerked at the unfamiliar tingle. “Be still now. Almost outside and you’ll be safe.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the warmth of the bright sunlight touched her skin. Hungry for oxygen, she tried to cough up the tar plugging her airways. Voices and moving bodies swarmed about her. She tried to raise her head, looking for her father’s silvery mane.
“Try not to move. I’ll get you to a gurney.”
“Help...” she whispered as panic gripped her. She couldn’t get a breath in.
Flailing, she grabbed at her throat. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She was dying. She’d lost control of the cough. The more she tried to take in a full breath, the harder it became to get the toxic fumes out. “Help.”
What would her father do when he discovered she’d died mere feet away from him? Her rescuer stilled, and then he tore off his face gear. Dark eyes, a rich cognac in color and softer than the angles of his face, regarded her.
“No, no,” he repeated. “I need a gurney over here,” he yelled. He cupped her cheek in his massive hand. “Stay with me.”
Though just a whisper, she heard the catch in his throat, the anguish in his voice. Wanting to see his face, Tori forced her eyes to travel the arduous distance. Finally, their gazes met. His dark p
ools fixed on her. It was probably her imagination, but it was as if he cared beyond his call of duty, like he had a personal stake in her survival. He lowered her onto something hard, all the while maintaining eye contact.
“I won’t let you go,” he said. Determination flashed in his eyes.
She clawed at his jacket, digging her nails in the dense material to hold on. Desperation tore at her insides. The need to prolong the connection and deliver a final message had her clutching at this lifeline.
“Help...father,” she tried to say, but the words were garbled to her own ears. She felt the rising tide of emotion, but the tears would never come. Her body fought to conserve the vital fluid. With her wrists pinned together in his hand, he issued commands. Tori latched onto the sound of his voice, taking the resonant tones into the chasm with her. She heard packages being ripped opened, and sirens that were fading into the distance. And she realized her pain had vanished.
“I’m losing her,” someone bellowed.
She couldn’t tell if it was her firefighter anymore. Added pressure squeezed her chest, but then it was gone.
“Protect...,” she uttered with her last breath. Her lungs stiffened beneath her ribs, and then stopped the struggle to breathe. The feel of firm lips pressed against hers registered in her mind before the abyss yawned wide and sucked her into darkness.
✥
Why had she asked him to protect her? Trace Fletcher sat forward in the bedside chair. The plastic material groaned under his two-hundred-and-eighty-pound weight. His jeans slid across the seat cushion, damp with humidity even in the air-conditioned hospital room. It was the first week of May, and the Key West heat had driven the snowbirds back north. His three days off rotation from the Key West Old Town Firehouse had started yesterday. Normally, he spent Fridays at Hobo Alley with his hand wrapped around a cold beer. In the past six years, nothing had changed in his routine...until four days ago.
He stared at the woman he’d pulled from the blaze at the Island Life Senior Citizen’s facility. The staff had taken to calling her Sleeping Beauty. Interestingly, the doctors thought her continued retreat in and out of consciousness had more to do with exhaustion than smoke inhalation. What kind of life had she lived before now? Rich sable waves hung loose over her shoulders. The grime had hidden flawless, sun bronzed skin. Her pert nose wiggled sometimes in her sleep. He thought it made her look a little mischievous. With that one uttered word -protect- she’d changed him, awakening an instinct he thought buried. How was she different from all the other women he’d met? He needed to know. He found himself wondering what kind of magic could they create together. But, she had to wake up for him to understand this supernatural pull she had over him. He reached for her hand. Briefly, he held her smaller hand in his large paw, willing her to open her eyes.
“Look at me, Beauty.” Trace repeated this request every day. She didn’t know it, though he’d told her more than once, they were running out of time. The department’s competency training program required him to travel to Dallas Fire & Rescue Station 58 once a year. In seven days, he’d have to leave. She didn’t owe him anything. He’d been doing his job when he’d saved her life, but he wanted to see her mocha-colored eyes beneath those impossibly long lashes again before he left for DF&R Station 58.
There was no room in his life for a woman. His job as a firefighter kept him busy. He didn’t have the time for romance, which was a good thing. He found other ways to meet his needs, usually involving a hand puppet with a soapy center. Nope, a woman needed to be protected, and he’d failed in that department six years ago. Movement on the bed drew his attention. He performed a slow perusal of her curvy form, surveying for any changes from the last hour when he’d done the same. As always, his eyes settled on the old needle marks that ravaged the delicate skin in the fold of both her arms. Her small frame, unmoving, looked elegant and refined, not like that of a junkie. Unconsciousness was a safe haven of sorts. Maybe the universe had a hand in keeping him and Beauty protected. After seeing her arms, he’d expected her to show withdrawal symptoms. She was feisty. He remembered how she’d struggled in his arms. The nurses could use an extra set of hands if she were in an agitated state. He’d told himself that’s why he came every day he could, staying until visiting hours ended.
She inhaled a deep breath and he came to his feet. He noticed she’d been doing that more often in the past eight hours. When he pulled her from the fire, she’d been barely conscious. Deprived of oxygen, the brain could conjure hallucinations. But, Trace had felt the urgency as she struggled to speak. Then she’d stopped breathing. He’d dropped to his knees beside her soot-covered body, tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and sealed his mouth to hers. Even with smoke clinging to her skin, she’d tasted sweet. How he remembered her delicate flavor, he didn’t know. Approaching the bed, he brushed a finger over her cheek. The feel of her skin was soft, and his fingers tingled where they touched. He thought her eyelids flickered, but—maybe not.
“Open your eyes for me. Just once.”
She’d been discovered without any identification and no one from the seniors’ village remembered her visiting a resident. Her presence on the scene remained a mystery.
“Beauty,” he said, now leaning over the bed rail in place. “When you wake up, I’ll be gone.”
He chuckled to himself. Why had he come back to see her every day? Because, he knew he would miss her. A woman that didn’t know he existed. How pathetic was that? He needed to end this. What kind of guy needed to end things with an unconscious woman? Since he’d been the one to pull her from the building, he thought of her as his responsibility.
“I can’t.” He paused. “I can’t come back here. I’d hoped some family would show up to take care of you.” Trace ran his fingers through the length of his hair, until the strands narrowed beneath a rubber band. Gosh, it was just as hard breaking things off with an unconscious woman. “Heck, I don’t know how to do this.”
That had been his problem before, he didn’t know how to let go. Everything had to be ripped from his hands like a spoiled rotten kid. So, he’d learned not to connect, that way he wouldn’t have to let go. He had his job and his crew. That would have to be enough.
He looked at the woman on the bed. He imagined her looking at him, grateful that he had honored her request. He’d kept her safe while she slept. Protected.
“I should go.”
Trace turned and grabbed the book he’d been reading to her and the two empty Pepsi bottles. The third held room temperature liquid inside now. He’d drink it tomorrow. No, he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t coming back to see her.
Walk out the door, he told himself. He couldn’t fill his empty life by sitting at an unconscious stranger’s bedside. He needed to leave. It was what he was best at these days.
He pulled the door open. Bells, ringing phones, and the mechanical hum of hospital equipment greeted him. He angled his head ready to look back, check on her one last time, but he stopped himself. She’s not your responsibility. She was a job. The job was over.
“Tra...Trace,” came a groggy voice from behind him.
At the soft flutter of his name, he spun around. Panic, wild and untamed, flared in her fathomless eyes. Trace stalked back to the bed, never taking his gaze off her. He transferred his crap to one hand, lowered the side rail, and sat beside her on the bed. Her hip touched his, and heat seeped through the layer of blankets into him. He didn’t want her to be upset so soon after she’d awakened.
“Shh,” he said.
She tore at the bedcovers. “I have to stop...” her voice stalled.
He gestured to the door. “You need something? A nurse?”
She stared at him. He got the feeling she was asking questions of herself and answering all the while holding his gaze. She had awoken in a panic, but also ready for action. She was a survivor. He liked that about her.
“Hey, hey,” he said. His gentle hand at her cheek slowed her frantic movements. “What’s wrong? Wha
t do you need?” Beauty’s eyes, a soft brown, were focused on him. The vulnerability he saw as she searched his face for answers slay him. His pulse picked up speed. Desire, swift and hot, licked at his skin. He’d thought her beautiful before, but those rounded doe eyes with a slight lift at the corners sucked him in.
“Your name is Trace Fletcher.”
“You could hear me…while you were unconscious?” His heart thumped against his chest. Trace leaned in close and took a deep inhale. Ah, he’d wanted this moment with her for what felt like an eternity. The scent of fresh melon, light and airy, assaulted him. Remembered sweetness tingled on his tongue, making him salivate. He never imagined that the aroma of a woman could enthrall him to the point of physical need.
Abruptly, her breath hitched. Dark eyes shot to his, and then her pupils dilated. “Every word.”
Suddenly, every cell in his body snapped to attention at her soft soprano. She didn’t seem alarmed, quite the opposite. What the hell had he said to her?
Chapter Two
Tori awoke with a churning stomach. Nausea crested, but she pressed one hand against her belly, squashing the sensation. The urge to act clawed through the haze in the forefront of her mind. She had to stay awake or she’d lose someone important. Who? Confused about her whereabouts, alarm bells sounded in her head. Who else would be taken away from her? His voice, the one that had been with her in the darkness, called to her. In her mind, she could see a bridge spanning the divide between darkness and light. This time, she moved toward it and grabbed ahold. She rode the deep, full-bodied notes back into a bright clearing. She opened her eyes for the briefest of moments and he was there.
“Trace?” He’d helped her. Wincing against the light, she closed her eyes.