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

by Siera London

  A swift and penetrating pain gripped her. She cried out as her legs crumpled beneath her.

  “Get up or I’ll hit you again,” he drawled.

  In the throes of pain, Tori struggled to focus. From somewhere in the room a roar vibrated the very air. It felt as if her teeth rattled in her skull. Suddenly, the arm around her waist was ripped away. Trace pushed her clear of Meaty as he charged forward, the menace rolling off him, crowding the small space. He was on the guy before Tori could take in a breath.

  “You hit her,” Trace bellowed before plowing his fist into Meaty’s nose. Blood splattered his knuckles, but he didn’t stop there. No, Tori watched in horror as the beast Trace kept on a leash, broke free, and pummeled Meaty to the ground. What had she done to him?

  ✥

  Fear ripped through Tori. Denton’s goons had found her, yes. But, Trace had transformed before her eyes. The man who’d read her romance novels, cooked her dinner, loved her with a gentleness she didn’t think possible, had disappeared. She blinked several times, but there was no use. The human carnage surrounded her.

  “Trace,” her voice a broken whisper, “I’m okay. I’m alright,” she said as tears gathered in her eyes. Trace’s huge body straddled Meaty. His beautiful mane hung in wild chunks around his head. His nostrils flared like an angry pit bull. His knuckles were raw and swollen. Meaty had stopped fighting, but like a predator with a fresh scent in his nose, Trace didn’t want to let go. He maintained a stance of dominance, his posture flexed and ready, daring anyone take his prize.

  She wrapped both her arms around his biceps. Dear heaven, he was strong. In the recesses of her mind, she wished a bald man in a plastic wheelchair and his dork hat sidekick would appear to stop the destruction she’d wrought to Trace and Rachel. Her heart broke with each blow he delivered. She pictured him with Teuila, wanting to save her, each powerful fist disintegrating the heroin, the failed therapies, and the blade.

  “Trace, baby.” The endearment got his attention. His head popped up. She took the opening, turning his face, until their eyes met. “Your Tori is okay.”

  Pounding footsteps were headed in their directions, the chorus of voices rising in the small space. The door opening, voices were coming from all around them. Cursing, a few gasps, a sob that sounded like Claudia, maybe Rachel. Trace didn’t move and neither did she. Trace had come to her rescue, but the way he tore into that guy, all the blood on his hands made her think he was on his way to a jail cell. Funny, her first thought was she’d go with him. For a woman who’d spent six months locked in her body, being caged behind bars with Trace sent a zing of excitement through her.

  “Trace?” It was Nathan.

  “Oh, man,” another voice called. Tori kept her eyes on Trace. Now Nathan held one arm and Cutler was on the other side.

  Nathan tugged at Trace’s arm. His bicep and the muscles along his forearm strained as he pulled against Trace’s larger mass. Cutler struggled in an equally tense pose. “Come on big guy. We’ve got you.”

  A tall young man with blond hair, striking blue eyes and a gold badge entered the melee. Someone had called the cops. There were at least nine people huddled at the door, looking in–their expressions grim. This could mean trouble for Trace. With a rising sense of panic, Tori’s brain started to conjure an exit strategy for him.

  “Cutler,” the sheriff called out. “What happened here?”

  “Ask her,” someone said.

  Trace, on his feet, shook off both his friends. Wincing, he wiped blood away from his mouth. His knuckles sported fresh bruises. The guy who’d hit her lay sprawled on the floor, but he was rolling from side to side. Teetering his flabby body into an upright position.

  When the blond with the golden badge extended his hand to her, Trace snapped. “Don’t touch her.”

  The storeroom occupants fell mute with chilled surprise. Trace had calmed, but aggression emanated from him. A few took a step back.

  “Come here, Tori.”

  Instinctively, she knew he’d never hurt her. She walked into his open arms. He gripped her face between his hands.

  “You okay?” he asked. He used his body to cage her in. The smell of blood, coppery and sweet, mixed with natural wood scent and his masculine sweat. Determined to be the rock he’d been for her, Tori held him tight, until her heartbeat melded with his. He’d shed blood to protect her. And, this was just the beginning if she chose to stay.

  She nodded. Her rapid heartbeat calmed when he pressed his lips to her forehead. Everything had happened so quickly. The two men, the batons, Meaty grabbing her, and Trace’s choreographed response. And Trace had put both men down…for her. Pride and…love slammed into her like a mega yacht. Tori luxuriated in the fact that an honorable man would risk his safety for hers. Nestling in closer, she let loose the sob from her throat.

  “Shh, Princess. I’ve got you.”

  But, who had him? “Trace.” Her voice broke. Tori inhaled a steady breath, reeling the emotion backward. She could be strong for Trace.

  “Ma’am,” the sheriff approached. “I’m Lance Stevens, with the Monroe County Sheriff’s department. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Sniffling, Tori looked to Trace, before she spoke. He nodded. She swallowed and explained what happened before the man grabbed her. She hadn’t recognized either man, but she never did. Denton had a lot of people on his payroll. Anyone could be a threat.

  Afterwards, Lance, who she discovered was Cutler’s younger brother thanked her for her statement. Trace remained at her side.

  “You are free to go. I’ll need your address and phone number,” Lance stated, scribbling on his pad. “More questions may arise when we get him to the station.” Lance motioned to the cuffed man still on the floor of the storeroom.

  “Ah,” she said looking to Trace. “What’s our address and phone number?”

  Lance stared from her to Trace. “You’re staying at Trace’s? Since when?”

  “That’s irrelevant,” Trace cut in. Trace rattled off the address and phone number before she could memorize either. Was she that trusting of him that she hadn’t bothered to memorize the address or ask him for the house phone number? He’d provided the information to the nurse for her discharge, but she had been anxious to get out the door before Denton located her.

  She needed cash. Rachel approached them, worry lines etched across her forehead.

  “Tori, I’m so sorry.” Guilt laced the words. “Did he hurt you?” Tori thought to reassure her. Besides, the ache to her right thigh, she was no worse for the wear.

  “I’m fine, but you could make it up to me,” she said, giving Trace a sideways glance.

  Trace frowned at her. The hand that lay on his chest vibrated from the his gruff rumble.

  “Anything,” Rachel said.

  “I need a loan.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  The yes belonged to Rachel. Tori acted as if she hadn’t heard Trace’s no.

  “Thank you, we can talk about it once I’m done here.”

  Trace picked her up bringing her face flush with his. “I said no.”

  She kissed his nose. “I heard you, sweetie. You’ve been out voted.”

  There were several chuckles, before she heard. “Oh, man. This will be fun to watch.”

  Tori looked at Trace’s grim expression. She didn’t want to upset him, but she needed her own money. How else could she get out of town fast? Victoria Currey’s reality had arrived in brutal fashion. Being with Trace had been a fantasy. It was time for her to leave and create a new reality for herself. And maybe...returning to Trace would be a part of it...one day.

  Chapter Nine

  Trace found himself on the outside looking in as the vibrant woman he’d shared his home with locked down her emotions tighter than Fort Knox. Tori had been too quiet on the drive back to the golf course and he thought to cancel their birthday dinner celebration, but she’d insisted they go. Now, he was having second thoughts. He’d rock
ed the foundation of who she thought he was with his reaction to her being attacked. She sat across from him, her face buried in the wine menu. She could pass a wine sommelier class without having drank the stuff.

  “I remember that you don’t drink. Do you plan to start after today?”

  She raised her head. A soft sigh on her lips. Lips he wanted to kiss. “No.”

  News of the altercation at Hobo Alley earlier in the day, and that he had a fire victim under his roof had reached the firehouse. Captain Brady had called for Trace to be in his office at eight o’clock sharp in the morning. He knew he was facing a possible reprimand, but Tori came first. Her zeal for life energized him. He wasn’t about to lose the woman he cared about...loved. A wave of regret hit him that she’d witnessed the beast within, but he’d do it again, if it meant she was safe. It was only their second night together, yet it felt like they had shared a lifetime. How had he lived before her? He hadn’t. After their initial conversations, he thought she was flighty and hyperactive, but neither was true. This morning she’d read the Wall Street Journal and made stock recommendations. She watched the Bloomberg report like she had millions invested in the market. When those two henchmen tried to take her, she’d fought back. As much as Trace believed she didn’t owe him for saving her, he felt that since she was the catalyst for several of the changes in his life, she should have to stay around. A permanent investor in the project she’d started in him.

  “Are you afraid...of me?” If it were anyone else, he’d welcome the separation. But not Tori, he had a hard limit with her trying to put distance between them.

  She angled her head. He noticed she did that when she was thinking. “I’m afraid for what I’ve done to you. I’ve upset your pleasant life.”

  Trace scoffed. “I want you. Pleasant or unpleasant, I want what we have, Princess.

  A tentative smile spread across her lips. “Really?”

  He winked. “Yeah, really.”

  Abruptly she came to her feet. Was she leaving him? When she pulled at the seat closest to him with the window overlooking Whitehead Street, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Then let’s get this celebration started because this is a nice restaurant, Trace.”

  The tension in his shoulders abated. This was his Tori. He looked around at the flowery decor and fancy wine bottles everywhere. If she wanted ritzy dinners and candlelight every night, he’d give it to her.

  “Glad you like it. Too many flowers for my tastes. Speaking of which, your roses have turned their smile upside down.”

  “My flowers are not due for an upgrade, so paws off, Beastie. They stay until the last petal bites the dust. Now, back to my pre-birthday dinner. I love French food. I had no idea that you enjoyed their cuisine.”

  He didn’t either. He’d asked Symphony and Kendall. They had recommended Pièd a Terre. Trace took one glance at the menu and slammed it shut. Everything was in French. Geez, he would be thoroughly embarrassed when it came time to order.

  “If you don’t like what’s on the menu. I’ll take you someplace else.”

  Preferably with a bed and a couple of silk ropes. Not that he was into bondage, but he needed her complete surrender. Tori needed to stay with him. His time in Texas would go faster with her in his bed every night.

  “No worries, Beastie. I’m not cheap, but I’m easy.” She giggled, and then added. “To please. Besides, you can’t go wrong with seafood on an island.”

  “True,” he chuckled.

  A card stock menu rose between them. Trace expected her to wince when she tried to read the thing. Instead, she scanned the entire thing with a critical eye. He waited for her to crack a joke.

  The waiter approached. Trace opened his mouth, prepared to ask the suited gentleman for recommendations.

  “S’il vous plait Monsieur,” Tori interrupted.

  The bow tied older man regarded Tori with a smile, a welcomed surprise obvious on his face. “Nous désirons en entrées les coquilles Saint Jacques à la noix do coco et au gingembre. Et le bar accompagné de riz au safran et petite légumes en plat principal. Il prendra une bière blonde de Key West et une bouteille d’eau pour moi. Merci.”

  Trace’s mouth dropped open. A deep bow was rendered to them both before the happy man dashed off to place their orders. He narrowed his eyes on the woman smiling at him from across the table.

  “You speak French?”

  She nodded. “And Spanish and Chinese. Japanese is next on my list.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said meaning every word. “So, what am I eating, Princess?”

  “Sea scallops in coconut and ginger for an appetizer. I ordered us the sea bass with saffron rice and baby vegetables.”

  Trace groaned in anticipation of the food hitting his taste buds with a giant splash.

  “Sounds perfect,” he said. A cold bottle of hops and barley would have been perfect to wash down all those fancy French spices. He wouldn’t mention it. Not with his woman taking care of him with the meal. He could get back to basics when they got home.

  “Glad you’re happy. Your Key West Ale should be here soon.” She winked and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his mug. “I think you’re pretty fantastic too, Beastie.”

  She knew him too well. The realization pleased him, but not as much as when Tori leaned forward, deliberately sampling up her cleavage by pressing her arms along her ribcage. Trace treated himself to the view, marveling at the display made just for him.

  “This night is almost perfect, Trace.”

  “Almost?”

  “You know I have to put my spin on it,” she said. A mischievous laugh escaped.

  “What did you do?”

  She leaned in conspiratorially. “What are your thoughts on women with no panties on?”

  Beneath the table, Tori grabbed his hand and placed it on her bare thigh. Oh, so soft. Blood rushed to his sex, leaving him speechless. Her skin seemed to burn hotter as he slid his hand north, climbing the stairway to his own slice of heaven. When his fingers brushed damp curls, he gave her moist folds a gentle stroke. Tori gasped, his name on her lips. Trace forgot to think at all. He could get used to dessert first.

  ✥

  Tori groaned when Trace’s alarm blared the Norah Jones’s Come Away With Me. Sunday mornings were supposed to be for quiet time cuddled on the couch with your lover.

  “You sure you’re going to be okay?” he frowned. Their gourmet dinner tasted like a dollar menu item compared to the dessert they had served each other until their sweat drenched bodies begged for sleep.

  “Trace, you’re going to work, not off to war. I’ll be fine.”

  “I left money on the counter. My numbers are on the fridge.” He’d shuffled her out of Hobo Alley before she and Rachel could settle their business dealings.

  She kissed him. “You know you told me this last night.”

  “Yeah, well. You sleep hard. I need to make sure you remember.”

  “Call me before you leave for Symphony’s. Kendall’s grandmother will be there. She’s a great cook. Save me a plate.”

  “Should I call on my bathroom breaks and when I get home, daddy?”

  “Now you’re getting the picture. Oh, I have a package being delivered today.”

  She laughed. “If I called as much as you asked, you’d never get any sleep.”

  He hauled her up close, settling a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll sleep when I come home to you.” She and Trace had discussed her staying. Symphony and friends had volunteered to play babysitter while he was on the clock.

  Tori handed him his packed lunch for work. “Go,” she said, walking him to the door. Alone, she grabbed her cell from the counter, and flopped on the couch. She eyed the counter. Her roses had all but died, but one rose, dark and crisp on the edges, clung to the stem. Maybe, tomorrow she’d shop for a fresh bouquet.

  Something in her news feed caught her attention. Denton Drake, Chief Executive Officer of Currey Industries headed to Palm Beach for rest and relaxati
on. The bottom fell out of Tori’s stomach. Denton...in Florida. She was sure the staff at the resort they owned in Palm Beach would provide him with an alibi. Tori needed to get to her father before Denton relocated him again. She’d have to get into the nursing home tonight. Denton hadn’t sent more henchmen. He was coming for her. That was so much worse.

  By seven o’clock, Tori had a plan. Trace had given her the keys to his truck while he caught a ride with Cutler to the station.

  The first thing she did was to visit the airport locker that held her disguise. When she’d arrived on the Greyhound bus five days ago, she’d rented a locker at the island’s single transportation hub to store her things. After the fire, Trace had provided for all her needs. There hadn’t been a reason to return here, until today. Dressed in blue scrubs and Birkenstock shoes, Tori parked in the staff parking and entered the facility. She had to find her father before she was discovered. She didn’t have a medical background if anyone asked her any questions, but she’d suffered at the hands of so called healers for the last six months, so she spoke their language. So intent on her plan, she missed the approaching fire department engine with Trace in the front seat.

  ✥

  Trace hopped from the engine cab. Was that Tori who’d just entered the senior village? There was still another ninety minutes till sunset, but she should have been at Symphony’s by now. Only one of the buildings had been destroyed in the fire. The residents had been relocated to another building on the property.

  “Hold up, Trace.” That was Kendall calling out behind him.

  “I’ll meet you inside,” he said already moving toward the building.

  Twice a year they partnered with the Red Cross to test and install fire detectors for local residents. With all the seniors in temporary lodging, Captain Brady had directed them to test all the detectors in the common areas of the facility. Why was Tori here? Did she know one of the residents?