Dallas Fire & Rescue: Commanding Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Fiery Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Siera London

  “Right here,” he said, taking her hand.

  Memories began to surface. A marriage stipulation had been added to her trust. Her questions about her father’s health that went unanswered. Discovering that her father had been relocated without her knowledge. The drugs she’d been given, her escape from the mansion, the pawn shop in Southwest DC where she’d left her pendant. There were other memories, too. Images were cutting through her addled brain, lightning strikes, each one jolting her back to life. The nursing home where Denton had hidden her father, the fire, her struggle to breathe, Trace’s mouth on hers. Her mind went in reverse. Where was her father?

  She slid her eyes open, this time nice and slow. Stark beige walls adorned with distressed wood-framed prints spaced equidistant around the room. Such was the sterile nature of hospitals. With a groan, she turned her head to the right. Full bloom red roses in a dark green vase sat on the cubby sink.

  “Roses...you?” she whispered.

  He gave a stiff nod. His coffee brown eyes that were hard a moment before, softened with an infusion of gold transforming them to a warm maple. He’d brought her flowers. The red ones were her favorite, too. The fact that he sought to surround her with beauty as she slept endeared him to her. The rest of the subdued decor was a physical queue to remain neutral, not too dire, and not too optimistic. A sober reminder that she needed to find her father before Denton found her.

  “It was you who saved me, right?” Her voice sounded rusty and unused. “My firefighter.”

  The man at her side shifted, his thigh brushed against hers. Her skin heated on contact. She took a long look at him. Six foot three, give or take a millimeter. Coal black hair pulled back from his forehead and gathered in a tie. She pressed her back against the pillows, angling her head. The shiny black mane reached past his shoulder blades. Eyes the color of a midnight sea under the moonlight, dark, yet iridescent, regarded her from beneath long lashes and heavy brows. A straight nose, too perfect for his hard jaw line, with a rounded tip was his only refined quality. Even his lips, full with a slight tint, twisted at the corner giving over to a fierce quality. He wore an army green t-shirt with khaki-colored cargos. Talk about hi, ho, Silver, away. He was a gorgeous warrior. His body was thick, muscled, and intimidating, but all that warm colored skin paid penance to his hulking frame.

  “I’m a firefighter, among other things.” She gave him a sideways glance, and he got the message to answer the question. “Yeah, it was me.”

  Trace tightened his hold on her hand. She might have imagined it, but it felt like he was stroking her skin, inside and out.

  “You had to revive me. I remember...” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed, recalling the memory of him walking through the fire, commanding the flame away from her weakened body. And then, the feel of his lips against hers, firm and full, invaded her mind.

  “It’s my job.”

  Tori had seen the devastation in his eyes before the slip into unconsciousness. Seeing her in that condition had somehow wounded him. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Trace,” she breathed. “Did everyone survive the fire? How long have I been out?” she asked in a rush. Was her father in this hospital?

  “Yes, and four days.” His eyes darted around the room, like he wasn’t comfortable with the admission.

  “Four days,” she muttered. A pounding started between her ears. Eyes wide, she stared at him unblinking. She’d escaped from their family mansion in Arlington, Virginia two weeks ago with only the clothes on her back and the pendant. A week spent in one of the women’s shelters where her mother had volunteered had allowed her body time to rid itself of the sedatives. Once fully alert, she’d contacted the private detective she’d hired before Denton had drugged her the first time. Looking back, it was probably that decision that had led to her incapacitation. Tori was grateful that during her absence the detective had completed his job. The detective’s notes had led her to Key West. Could the struggle have been all for nothing? Her father could have been moved to another state in four days. The little money she had wouldn’t get her a paper cup for water. She discovered on the trip down from Washington D.C. that cups had to be purchased at some restaurants. Why would wealthy corporations deprive their patrons of water, for goodness sake.

  “No thanks necessary,” he said, releasing her hand. He leaned back. After days with nothing but him in her head, the physical separation made her stomach dip into turbulent waters. The distance between them felt wrong somehow. “You want me to leave?”

  Did he still have plans to walk away and not return? She needed a place to lay low while she located her father. Tori figured a guy who sat at her bedside everyday had to be one of the good ones.

  “No, Trace. I want you to take me with you.” He nearly fell on his ass when he jumped to his feet.

  “Hold up a second,” he bristled. That voice of his was burlier than she’d heard in the days past.

  Tori was unfazed by his reaction. She needed help. Since he’d stayed by her side this far, he was the winner, winner, chicken dinner by default. She reached for the tie holding her gown together behind her neck.

  “Get the nurse, so we can leave.” In four days, she’d be twenty-five. Four days until Denton Drake, the acting Chief Executive Officer of her family’s company, would seize control of everything her father had worked his whole life to secure.

  “Whoa, Beauty.” Trace’s voice dropped a notch. “Keep that on and let’s figure a few things out.”

  She slipped her hands back down to her lap. “Wow, you’re one of those ‘what’s your plan’ types? What else do you want to talk about?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Your family may have something to say about you running off with a stranger.”

  She smiled at his veiled attempt to get information from her. It was safer if Trace didn’t know she was a Currey. Plausible deniably could be his defense when Denton came for her.

  “What stranger, Trace?”

  “What?” he snapped. Running thick fingers through his hair.

  “You heard me,” she said sitting upright in the bed. “Four days you’ve been with me. Talking to me, helping the nurses position me. I could smell you, you know? Could always tell when you left me. Your voice. Even when the darkness closed in, I’d wait to hear it in my dreams. So, I want to know how strange you think things will get between us now that I’m awake?”

  “Ah...” That ink black ponytail of his, full and bushy against his neck swayed as he formulated a response.

  “Very eloquent...and,” she said, pointing a finger. “That’s what I thought. You’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth,” he ground out. “Might look inappropriate if you leave the hospital with the public servant that saved you.”

  “Why? The good guy is supposed to get the girl,” she said, her voice level. It was odd, but she trusted this stranger whose voice guided her from darkness back into light.

  “I didn’t say anything about me being good.”

  “I know. I did,” she said pointing to the corner wardrobe. “Any clothes in there for me?”

  “Yeah. I grabbed you a few things.”

  She threw the bed covers aside. “See, you are a good guy.” Slowly she placed both feet on the ground. Trace was there, a broad arm around her waist, assisting her to stand. This close she could smell the clean scent of hard wood on his skin.

  “Go slow,” he said.

  “Bossy little thing aren’t you?” she teased.

  He grinned, and the sharp edges of his face softened.

  “Anyone mention you talk a lot?” he asked.

  “To echo your words, ‘among other things’,” she said with a smile.

  ✥

  Trace stared down at the woman who shocked him with her bold tongue and brazen actions. She wanted to come home with him. How the heck could he say no when she turned those eyes on him? When the medical team had arrived, she asked him to give his address to th
e nurse, and step out of the room. He still had no idea who she was or why she was at the fire scene. She had asked him to protect her. Now that she was awake, would she be in more danger if he left? What did he know about the events of that day? Susan, a nurse in love with Kendall’s ex-husband, had started the fire. Kendall Raine was one of the female fire fighters on loan from DF&R. The emerald-eyed badass had come for a two-week assignment and fallen hard for his fellow crew member, Cutler Stevens. A former Marine, who could double for Thor, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and natural charm. Women adored him, but with Kendall in his life, the guy was so far off the market, he didn’t have a product description.

  Beauty emerged from the bathroom dressed in blue jeans, a Key West tie-dyed t-shirt, and flip-flops that were too big for her feet. She wiggled her toes as if getting used to the sensation of using them again. A smile came to Trace’s face. Each one of her toenails was polished a different color.

  “You into toes, Trace?”

  Gosh, this woman was a handful. Her brown eyes sparkled with a fiery light. The intense color of the banked heat shot straight to his groin. Did she ask every question that popped into her think tank? She licked her lips and he followed the motion, hungry to repeat the movement with his own tongue. Petey Pablo’s Freak-A-Leak cut through his brain. Frowning at his body’s reaction to this lovely creature with the bold stare and sweet taste, he shot her a scowl.

  She shrugged. “If that’s your thing it’s okay with me. You don’t have to hide who you are.”

  “Beauty...enough.” Pivoting on his heel, he clipped out, “Let’s go.”

  “Fine, Beast. Grab my roses.”

  She laughed and walked around him, grabbing her discharge paperwork before heading for the door.

  “What did you call me?” He crossed the short distance and picked up the vase with one hand.

  “If I’m Beauty, then you must be the Beast,” she said. “You’re the big wolf man hybrid thingy.”

  When she opened the door, he pulled her back. “Where are you going?”

  “With you.” She threw up a hand. “Out the door.”

  “Do you know where you’re going? Do you know my truck?”

  She bowed at the waist and held out a hand gesturing toward the door. “After you.”

  “Tell me your name. I can’t take you around calling you, Beauty.”

  “Tori,” she said without hesitation.

  “What were you doing at the senior citizen’s village, Tori?”

  He tested the name on his tongue. The four letters were too casual for her. Even with the messy hair, soot stained nails, and track marks in the bend of her elbows, she had a polished quality. Tori ‘no last name’ wasn’t forthcoming with information.

  “Trying not to die.”

  He growled in frustration. Again, he thought that she had no intention of telling him more information than she had to. “Before the fire broke out.”

  “Oh, I was looking for someone.”

  Trace folded his arms over his chest. “Stop playing games. I could get burned big time for this.”

  She paused, and then rubbed a small hand over his forearm. “I’ll tell you after we get out of here.”

  “Why the zero-to-sixty?”

  She pulled the door open and walked into the hallway.

  “I’m anxious to see my potential new boyfriend’s place.”

  Oh no she didn’t go country on him. Tori was a jokester, but he wasn’t buying her routine. She was in serious trouble. When they got to his place, Trace had to figure out how to help her and keep his hands to himself. The way she touched him, a light stroke here, a soft caress there, was about to drive him crazy. And her mouth…, that sharp tongue of hers he could put to wicked use for hours. He had a difficult task ahead of him. Tori had asked him to take her home. He hoped she understood he took care of what was his, even if it was just a temporary holding. Trace would discover who had her on the run and the role he’d have to play.

  Chapter Three

  Tori crossed the patio deck again. Trace’s condo was built inside a nature preserve overlooking a golf course. Once they’d entered the gated community, he’d driven her down each secluded cul-de-sac, orienting her to the basics—security guard station, the pool cabana, and the clubhouse. The moment she walked through the door, a sense of freedom assailed her. The downstairs was a big box sectioned into a small kitchen when you entered, a half bath and then a quaint living area that led to a screened-in porch. A two-seater Dade County Pine swing hung from the balcony overhead. Tori instantly fell in love with the place.

  “I can cook,” she blurted out. She had to contribute something. After all, Trace was willingly sharing his piece of heaven with her.

  “Green bananas with taro leaf?” His tall frame seemed to dwarf even the great outdoors as he stood in the open doorway.

  He thought to stump her, but she just smiled. “I prefer my taro boiled with cheese on the side.” She’d spent the summer following high school graduation traveling throughout the American Samoas. Her palate was well tested.

  He looked surprised that she had knowledge of the Samoan people.

  “You cook it. I’ll eat it,” Trace nodded and smiled. She got the impression his smiles were rare. She would try to give him more reasons to laugh while she was here.

  Tori worked hard at learning to care for herself. Servants had been at her side since birth, but she prided herself on experiencing what the people around her did to earn their way in life. She could cook, clean, do laundry, drive, entertain like the first lady, and read the Wall Street financials with breakfast. Her father had been proud of her accomplishments. Even though his colleagues gave her the side eye, Alfred Currey lauded his only child’s creative nature. Admittedly, she had an impulsive streak that often times had earned her the hairy eyeball when her mother had been alive, but her messes always worked out in the end.

  “What’s upstairs?” She was already headed in that direction when he responded.

  “That’s where we sleep.”

  There was that drop in his voice again.

  There were no bedrooms on the first floor, so she assumed they both would be sleeping on the second level. From the looks of the place, there were a total of two balconies and two porches.

  “You want to show me now or later?” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “Come on you little vixen.”

  He led them back towards the front of the house. Quickly they climbed the set of stairs along the right wall to reach a small landing. From there she could see a master bedroom to her left and a hallway bathroom. Next to it, a closet held a washer and dryer in gunmetal gray. She turned to the right and entered a smaller bedroom. The walls were painted a light, buttercup yellow to match the quilt on the bed. The room had a feminine feel to it, and instantly she knew Trace had decorated it for a young girl.

  “Is this supposed to be my room?”

  She glanced over her shoulder to find him watching her. Those sexy eyes were half lidded and fixed on her too big backside. Tori had a small build until you reached her hips and then everything went in-stereo. Her hips, thighs, and buttocks had a zip code of their own.

  “Yeah, you can stay in here.”

  The words rang false. That she would be staying in his house wasn’t a problem, but this room somehow felt off-limits, sacred.

  She raised her chin. “Take me to your room.”

  Trace stepped aside as if he’d been waiting for the request. Cautiously she passed him. His body heat like a summer breeze against the chill of night. Everything about the man claimed her; his scent, his voice, and his touch.

  The walls in his room were painted a darker gray. A black comforter covered a massive bed with a headboard that looked like a rock climbing wall. The adjacent wall held double doors than led to a bathroom with a walk-in closet.

  Trace came up behind her. He stopped shy of touching her, but she felt him. Her nipples peaked and her core tightened. He grabbed her arm and turned her
around.

  “Anything else you want to see?”

  They stood facing each other, neither of them speaking for a moment. Where did she want to go with Trace? She’d finagled her way into his home. She knew he would keep her safe. He was a protector. Now, did she want to live out the fantasies that played in her head every time she’d heard his voice in her dreams?

  “You like girls?”

  A hand came down on her backside and she yelped, “Hey.” The sting she expected, the tingling heat afterwards she did not. Tori’s breath hitched as warmth spread across her flesh and settled in her core. Trace’s eyes narrowed on her parted lips. He swore when she tilted her head up, welcoming his attentions.

  “And I’ll spank your ass again if you answer another one of my questions with a question.”

  She grimaced. “So much for Mr. Kind and Sensitive.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You want me to make something sensitive? Just say the word, Princess.”

  Tori wanted him to do just that. She wanted something unscripted with Trace. This man had stayed by her bedside, talked her back to life. He’d read to her for hours. She remembered him stroking her cheek and the brush he’d run through her hair releasing the tangles. He’d taken care of her. Even trapped inside her body, she’d sensed his loneliness. Somehow, they’d become a safe haven for each other. He could just be a decent guy looking after a girl, and she...she could be Tori for a few more days. Victoria Currey’s life would catch up with her soon enough. After all, how long could a girl outrun the man with the key to her future?

  Wrapping her arms as high as she could around his narrowed waist, she stepped in close, stopping when her breasts pushed against hard muscle. Lust, raw and ravenous, flared inside her. Tori mentally donned her hiking boots, necessary equipment to climb this Goliath, and bring him to his knees. Strong arms hauled her in, impossibly close. His hard length dug into her soft tummy. A gasp left her body. She looked up, their eyes locked. Her lips parted, and she breathed the word, “Princess.”